To Steal One's Heart
by Skylar D. C
Summary: Following the Thieves Guild main quest line, Maevyn Eldurvari and her mentor Brynjolf must restore the Thieves Guild to its once prosperous status and stop the remaining fibers from unraveling into Oblivion. Conflict arises when Maevyn must choose between between the two most important things in her life: pursuing her love for Brynjolf, or saving the guild.
1. In the Right Place, at the Right Time

The two large wooden doors clanged behind her as Maevyn Eldurvari stepped into the city of Riften, brushing off her annoyance that was invoked by the gate guard that demanded her to pay a 'visitor's tax to the city'.

_'City', _she thought, _was an understatement._

Riften was essentially an upscale cesspool on stilts. The air smelled of the salty marshes that flowed beneath the docks. Every building was paneled in the same birch-wood planks. The elevated docks the city stood on slightly swayed and creaked with each step. Shady figures were hidden in the shadows of the lower docks, she noted. Shrewd women were bickering loudly in the central market place that only contained 4 stalls. And rats were seen in multiple areas around buildings.

Overall, it was not a cheerful place. And Maevyn loved it. It was places like this that she felt most comfortable in, where she knew she wasn't expected to be perpetually good. To her right, she saw a strong-looking woman and a man sitting next to a building, sternly talking about some kind of problem the city had

"…Guild is causing this whole city to fall apart. Someone _needs_ to stop them…"

Maevyn didn't want to get too involved just yet; she wanted to look around the small city and what it had to offer. As she walked past the first door on her left, a large man leaning against a support beam pushed off of it and called to her.

"_Hey,"_

It was one of those sketchy-looking men she noticed earlier. Maevyn looked over her shoulder and walked toward the burly man, stopping a few feet away from him.

The man introduced himself as Maul, and was obviously trying to intimidate Maevyn, puffing out his chest and scowling. He began to tell her that the Black-Briar's owned the city and she had better not cause any trouble, or she'd have to deal with him.

Maevyn assured the man called Maul that she wasn't going to do anything harmful to Riften, but was going to try and fit in.

"There might not be a difference there, between fitting in and not causing trouble" the man growled, eyeing the glass bow that was slung across her back.

The girl brushed off his assumptions and questioned him about the city; what businesses there were, if there was a house for sale, who the Jarl supported. Questions of that nature. She was pleased to hear there _was _a house for sale, if small, and a moderately sized apothecary's shop, all on the Plankside.

* * *

Maevyn Eldurvari was a young Nordic woman, around 26, who looked for adventure around every corner. She was a rouge at heart, having advanced skills in archery and dagger-usage. She was also very skilled at alchemy, which often served her well in terms of monetary value. She was a slim woman, but still lean, as years of being a hunter often proved. She had dark hair that flowed down her back in a fashion her mother had once shown her long ago, and her eyes were an odd yellow-green color that seemed to change involuntarily. A pale scar ran down from her left eye down to the corner of her mouth; a result of a battle with a bandit clan years before.

Maevyn had grown up in the forest of Falkreath, alongside her mother and father in a log cabin that only contained two rooms and was almost completely isolated from the rest of civilization. There, she was taught how to hunt and use the plants and flora around her to survive. The isolation in the woods also provided Maevyn with ample opportunity for reading about the world that was unbeknownst to her, which she had greatly taken to, reading about anything she could. When the Great War arrived, it had taken its toll on the Eldurvari family greatly. Maevyn's father had left to serve in the war against the elves and never returned. The young girl would often lay in bed at night, listening for the stamp of her father's boots against the steps that led up to the cabin, which would then lead her to running out of bed and through the door to welcome home her Pa who had been gone for months. After years without husband, Maevyn's mother said she was no longer content in Skyrim, and set off for High Rock, in hopes of living the rest of her elderly life without the hardships that were required in the forest. Her daughter, though, elected to stay in her homeland, and lived the earlier part of her adult life utterly alone in that cabin, only traveling to Falkreath when it was absolutely necessary.

The winter she turned 25, Maevyn decided to follow her mother to High Rock, not finding any peace in Skyrim. As she neared the point at which Hammerfell, Skyrim and High Rock met, she was attacked by Imperial guards in a flurry of confusion in which she was knocked unconscious. Upon her awakening, she was in a cart with three men, which none of she knew. The events that then happened were almost a blur to Maevyn: she was taken to a town called Helgen where she was to be executed for unknown reasons. A dragon then attacked and she escaped with a Stormcloak soldier called Ralof, who welcomed him in his family at Riverwood. Being ordered to go to Whiterun after, another dragon showed up, (which she had proudly slain) and _absorbed its soul._ After being summoned by old men on top of the tallest mountain, she was found to be the Dragonborn, who was said to be able to save Nirn from Alduin, the so-called World-Eater. Her next step decided that she should get to know the world she was going to save, and traveled to only Falkreath and Whiterun so far. Now, she was _here._

During her time in the holds she had already been in, Maevyn had helped the locals with minor problems and quests, often receiving something of value. She was proud of her work that helped the people around her, even if it only affected their lives in the smallest of ways. Being the legendary dragonborn, though, had changed Maevyn's life greatly. If she stayed in a hold for too long, she soon got frequent side-glances and whispers.

She wasn't noticed too much when she first entered a new hold, and she liked it that way; it gave people time to get to know for who she _really_ was, not just the 'dragonborn'. She was content with being Maevyn Eldurvari, the woman who'd help you.

* * *

And now she was in Riften, thinking about settling this town as her permanent residence. It was quaint and old; it almost had a charm about it that wasn't held in Whiterun. As she walked towards the small ring of vendor stalls in the center, a man intercepted her. He was finely dressed in blue garments that complimented his fiery hair and blue eyes. He stopped, and eyed her, and she suddenly became self-conscious of his scrutiny. This stranger was looking her up and down as if she were _something to buy._ She was about to cut the man in the jaw with a fist, but as he gauged her reaction, he said in a low voice,

"Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying. Eh, lass?"

Maevyn stared at him open-mouthed, not expecting something like this. His low voice was oddly accented, and appeared friendly enough. She lowered her hand in guilt, admitting that she _had _stolen some of the coin she was carrying in her pouch. Still staring the man in the eyes, she kept her voice low as well,

"What do you want?" she asked warily, watching as his eyes gave off a slight glimmer.

He smiled as he realized he was intimidating the woman, and lightly laughed to show he was no predator,

"I am Brynjolf," the man chortled at first, "and I would like your assistance in completing a certain… job. This may sound sketchy, but I can tell you that you seem like the exact type of person to help me. Small, unnoticed, _stealthy._" He said the last word in a way that made Maevyn more curious as to what he was talking about.

"Go on," replied Maevyn, "What kind of job do you have in mind,"

"Do you see that dark elf over there? That's Brand-Shei. Someone has given me the task of framing him for theft, and I intend to do that."

"How exactly are we going to do that?" Maevyn asked. She knew by now that she was essential to this plan, if she was reading what Brynjolf was saying correctly.

"That argonian sells jewelry. I will distract everyone in the market, and you will sneak behind his stall, pick the lock to the door underneath the counter, and place the ring you find there in Brand-Shei's pocket. But you must do this when no one is looking. That is the most important part,"

Maevyn stared blankly once again at the man in front of her. He expected her to frame an innocent man? Reading her doubt, he quickly explained,

"Remember lass, there's a fine amount of coin involved here, and if this… line of work piques your interest, then we can speak about it later."

Maevyn slowly nodded, the idea of more coin enticing her.

"Alright," she agreed, "this should be something fun,"

"Oh, it will," encouraged Brynjolf.

The man walked over to a vacant stall and raised his voice so most in the vicinity could hear.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, come one and all to experience this extraordinary concoction! It has guarantees that it will improve your life-span by 15 years…"

As everyone gathered around Brynjolf, Maevyn crouched, sneaking behind Madesi's stall. There, she took out her set of picks and intently worked on turning the two handles in multiple directions. Hearing the right set of clicks, the lock sprang open. Maevyn was satisfied; she had picked a few locks before, but never this fast, and under pressure, too. There was a silver ring inside the box, which Maevyn slipped inside her pocket. She crept back out and nonchalantly walked over to a pile of crates and boxes, which Brand-Shei was standing in front of. Crouching once again, she took the ring out of her pocket and slipped it effortlessly into his own, as if it had been there the whole time. She got up and leaned against the boxes signaling to Brynjolf that the job was done. The man who was advertising the esteemed product looked up at the sky, as if to gauge the position the sun and proceeded to say,

"Oh my, it seems my time is up here! But do not worry, I will be back tomorrow!"

He finished this sentence while looking at Maevyn and giving her a warm smile.

* * *

**AuthorsNote: Well, here is my new story for Skyrim. I hope you guys enjoy this beginning and such.**

**Do you know what's best for a new story? Opinions.**

**THEY'RE APPRECIATED, GUYS!**

**Really. I do enjoy reading the comments that you post on my other story. Feel free to say WHATEVER you want.**

**Thank you! Have a nice day.**


	2. A New Friend

As a protesting Brand-Shei was being dragged away by the guards, Brynjolf joined Maevyn by the stack of crates, another smile spreading across his face as he pressed 150 septims into her sweaty palm.

"You did well, lass. One of the better jobs I've seen in a while,"

During the time in which she was crouched behind Madesi's stall, she had thought for certain that the guilt would rack her when the job was complete for harming an innocent man, but she was surprised that there was only a mixture of adrenalin and excitement flowing through her. As she smiled back at Brynjolf, she realized that she had never formally introduced herself to him.

"Let's have ourselves a drink while we talk," she suggested.

A pint of ale in hand, Maevyn sat across from Brynjolf in The Bee and Barb, an old tavern that was run by two young argonians.

"Earlier," Maevyn began after introducing herself, "you said that I should talk to you if I were interested in more work like this,"

She continued as the man's eyebrows raised in amusement.

"That… excitement…" she paused, trying to find the right words to fit her description, "The thrill that embraced me while doing that job felt like this was what I had been yearning for in the past few years of my life," she folded her hands as she looked squarely at Brynjolf, "and I want to learn more of the skill I had just witnessed. I want to master it."

He laughed at her choice of words and smiled. She noticed he did that a lot. Lots of smiling and laughing.

"Well Maevyn, I'm not surprised at your decision. I could tell you were naturally gifted in the arts of stealth and deception right from the start. But you must know that this life of a thief is not all about the fun and coin. It's dangerous. You could get thrown in jail, injured, _killed," _he added solemnly, every spark of humor vanishing from his eyes.

Maevyn nodded in agreement, secretly thinking that the risk was what made it enjoyable.

He eased back in his chair, the seriousness dropping away from his demeanor,

"You are not alone as a thief in Riften. There is a whole guild of thieves in the city, so creatively named 'The Thieves Guild'," he added in amusement, the light returning to his navy eyes. "Do you wish to become a thief?" he asked, leaning forward with both elbows placed on the table.

Maevyn smiled as she accepted.

The two stood up and shook hands. She was surprised to find his was calloused, yet warm.

"Welcome to the Guild, Maevyn," he smiled brightly as he said this, his hand enclosed around hers.

* * *

Before departing, Brynjolf said he would be back in the morning to bring her to the base in the sewers. At hearing this, Maevyn was puzzled. _A base in the _sewers_? Well, they are thieves. _She watched as Brynjolf exited the building and walked up to the Argonian woman manning the counter.

"I would like to rent a room here for the night," Maevyn said politely, pulling out her coin purse.

"Certainly," the Argonian said in a gravelly voice, "10 septims."

After Maevyn placed the gold on the counter and turned around, she noticed two men staring at her.

"Well!" boomed one drunkenly, eyes bloodshot with something stronger than mead, "we have a pretty little lady over here staying in our inn! Won't his be fun, Valkir?" He looked over to the man next to him, who had just slammed an empty tankard on the table top.

"Oh yes, brother," he said in an oily voice that matched the texture of his hair, "she looks like a rough one. Take a look at that scar on that fine face," he finished as his eyes trailed everywhere _but _her face.

Maevyn reached up to trace the scar out of habit. She glared at the men, unsure of what else to do.

"Hey, hey," the Argonian hissed, "You two will be thrown out if you keep harassing my patrons like that. She turned to Maevyn, "Please, pay no mind to Valkir and Banjorn. They're the scum that are always expected in a place like this," she said, referring to Riften. "I assure missus, I won't let them harm you."

Maevyn smiled at the lizard in appreciation, thanked her for the room, and stalked past the drunken men.

In her room, Maevyn undressed and piled her leather armor underneath the table, along with her bow and quiver. Lying down in the bed and staring at the wood-plank ceiling, she thought of the day.

_A thief! This was certainly a good decision; coin and excitement are what I need right now; I'm sure I don't need to slay dragons right away. Had Brynjolf really meant I was good at stealing? What if he didn't mean it and was only trying to make me feel better? Brynjolf. He is a very nice man. I wouldn't expect him to be a thief at first glance, but then again, I guess you have to appear that way to remain inconspicuous. I should start carrying a set of picks with me at all times now, and also a dagger or two. I guess I'll also have to buy some lighter armor. Do they give me jobs, or do I do as I wish and hand in a portion of my fruits to support the guild? Do I get partners or is it a lone wolf-type deal? I wonder if I'll get to work with Brynjolf some more. I wouldn't mind that. I would expect a thief to be serious and secretive, but he was open and light-hearted. His eyes are very attar-_

Maevyn's thoughts were cut off as her stomach rumbled, signaling dinner was at hand. The light outside was turning a deep purple as night approached the city, confirming her suspicions.

Walking down the stairs, she noticed that the two men were still there, bottles and pints littering the table and floor around them. They were the only ones in the room at the moment, all other patrons gone in the Morndas night and the bartender nowhere to be found. _Gods be damned, they're right in front of the counter._ Maevyn looked at them in disgust as she contemplated turning back to her room, but hung her head and continued as they spotted her. Walking past the one called Valkir, she stood stoickly at the bar a few feet away from him, waiting for the argonian to return.

Noticing this was the lady he and his brother called out earlier, he smiled a conniving grin and leaned forward to grab Maevyn's waist. "So you've come back, you petite thing? Couldn't stay away from the charming Valkir?" His brother laughed loudly as Maevyn gasped at Valkir's attempt to pull her onto his lap.

She spun around quickly and pulled back her arm, her hand balling up into a dense fist, and letting the rage build up inside as electricity rippled through her upper body, making her a human cattle prod. As soon as she let go, her knuckles connected with the bloated fleshy face and knocked him out of his chair, sprawling on the floor as her twitched from the jarring shock. His brother gaped open-mouthed at his grounded sibling for a moment, not realizing what had happened. As his drunken state of mind caught up with him, he stood up, his chair falling back behind him with a bang. Banjorn rushed at the woman, shoulder lowered for a tackle. As Maevyn stepped out of the way, he made contact with the counter, hitting his head hard on the side. Spinning him around so he was slouched against the bar, Maevyn punched the left side of his face three times, then the right side, the electricity transferring from her hand with each punch. As she cocked her arm back for a blow to the eye, she was pulled from behind, the room becoming a blur as she was swung around and thrown on the floor. She landed on her back as Valkir jumped on top of her, squeezing her face in a large hand as he punched with his other. As black spots blocked her vision with each hit, Maevyn struggled to remover her arm from his pinning knees. Thrashing about, one came free and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing with what strength she had left, electing to pause the flow of magic from her hands, not wanting to actually kill him. As Valkir clawed at her throttling hand, she slid from underneath him and was on her feet in the next moment. Kicking him down to the ground, she spun around to deal with the other brother, blue sparks shooting from her palm, but saw an argonian man had him grabbed by the back of the neck and was being lead to the door. Maevyn grabbed Valkir in the same manner and followed the argonian, shoving the vile being into the walkway outside, trying to quell the idea of throwing his rotted ass in the canal below.

She turned to the argonian. She had a split lip and her nose was bleeding.

"Thank you," she said thickly, the red slowly ebbing from her vision, "for throwing them out."

The lizard looked at her worriedly, "I am so sorry, Serah. I should not have left the room unattended with those two here. Do you need help with your… wounds?"

She smiled as she assured the argonian she was okay, and requested a bowl of soup and a pint of ale.

* * *

After eating, Maevyn went back up to her room, disgruntled and irritated. On the way up, she held out her hand in front of her, palm open as she thought of peaceful things like rivers, or the beautiful orange birch trees outside of the city; things that brought a state of balance to her mind. As warmth flooded her, she felt her lip close up and the bruises in her face disappear. Other than feeling light-headed from the depletion of magika, Maevyn felt like she had never participated in a fight her whole life. When she got up to her room, she pulled a dark red bottle from her bag and emptied the contents into her mouth in one swig. The potent healing potion made her feel like she had never known any pain at all in her life.

Content, Maevyn climbed in the bed and blew out the candle, a sudden drowsiness blanketing her from the day's events. The last thing she thought of before darkness overtook her was a flash of red hair and the sound of clicks from the picking of a lock.

* * *

**AuthorsNote: Hello! So this was my first fight seen I have ever written, and I'm not too sure how I did. Maybe I should've added more detail. Maybe made it longer. I'm not sure, but I enjoyed writing it. Sorry it took a while to get this one out, but exams are coming up soon. I hope you like this chapter, and comments are appreciated. Thank you and have a dandy day. **


	3. Welcome to the Family

The next morning, the early sun lit Riften up with an orange glow that almost made the run-down city look attractive. Maevyn was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, an empty bowl of what used to be porridge sitting in front of her and a mug of light spiced wine in hand. She sighed contently at her full stomach and was thinking of how she should go about purchasing that house Maul had mentioned. She had seen it out of her bedroom window that morning, and oh, how quaint it looked. It had a small garden plot, along with a back porch that connected to the outside walls of the city. Granted, it was a bit on the small side, but Maevyn had lived with small accommodations her whole life. She started estimating how much it would cost to buy; _it is a small house, I doubt it has more than four rooms. There was only one chimney, so one fire place, which also probably meant no kitchen. There was the porch and garden to account for too; many homes did not have commodities like that, so it would most likely add to the value. Location is also important; you would have access to outside the city and the waters from your back door, so that is a big benefit. It is in a crowded space, being butted up against the wall, but I suppose that could also account for privacy. _

The door to the inn opened and Brynjolf walked in, no longer outfitted in the fine blue robes from yesterday. Instead, he was wearing black leather armor that had many little pouches and pockets attached to it, the dark material gave off a slightly mysterious air, and he hardly made a sound when he walked. _Odd, _thought Maevyn, _yesterday I heard him wherever he stepped, with his heavy boots compressing the boards, making them groan and bend. _She brushed away her wonderings as he stood next to the table, a light smile on his face, almost as if it were there naturally, involuntary.

"Good morning, lass," he greeted, "ready to go?"

Maevyn gathered up her battered satchel and knapsack as the argonian at the bar voiced his appreciation and gratitude for her patronage.

* * *

"The Ratway," Brynjolf explained as they entered a dank walkway underneath the docks, "is a system of tunnels underneath the city. In the center of it is the base of the Guild, with vaults and cells surrounding that area. Not a very nice place to get lost in," he added as the torch he was carrying cast shadows that danced around desolate barrels and crates.

"As the one who inducted you into the guild," he began, "I shall be your mentor and train you in the skills you wish to master, whether it be lock picking, sneaking, archery, pickpocketing, or anything else that may be useful to a thief. Or if you wish, you could truly follow in my footsteps and become a master of it all, but of course, that would take years and years of practice and training." He looked back at her, as he said the last part, a glint in his eyes that told her he would be a dedicated teacher no matter what path she picked.

"I want to learn it all, become the best damn thief the guild has seen,"

Brynjolf smiled at her enthusiasm and laughed, "Ah, it might be tricky to do that, lass. We have some pretty talented members in our business. Some of these people have been with us for more than thirty years,"

Visions of herself dressed in the same armor as Brynjolf flowed through her mind. She was sneaking up to a door in the shadows of night, a lock pick in hands. She did not hesitate as the door opened, as if it had been opened by a key, and not an unnatural alternative. She saw herself creep into the shadows of the room, pocketing items like vases and pouches of gold, gems and precious stones, picking these items up as if she knew exactly where they were. As she breezed through the home, she slipped out of an open window after she replaced the lock on the door, as if she had never been there and melted into the shadows, vanishing into the night.

Brynjolf's voice reached Maevyn as her day dreaming ended, and found herself annoyed with the fact she already dozed off on her mentor. She shook her head and followed closer behind him as they rounded a corner, a door in front of them.

"Listen Maevyn, this here is the entrance to the Ragged Flagon, and serves as a look-out of sorts to keep wanderers or beggars from finding out the true location of the Thieves Guild. You must keep this location to yourself, understand? We cannot risk the safety of the Guild under _any _circumstances."

She nodded as Brynjolf pushed the door open. The Ragged Flagon was a large dome-shaped room that did not have a floor in the middle, but instead a pool of water. A small floating dock protruded over the large pool and held a number of tables and chairs at which people were sitting at. Then there was a small bar pushed up against the curved wall on the northern side of the room, with more tables and chairs situated around that. A number of crates and barrels also served as tables, many of which were broken and dusty. The Flagon, Maevyn noticed, was cool, damp, and smelled of stagnant water, but overall, was cozy.

As she and Brynjolf walked closer to the bar, Maevyn took note of the people there. Two people she noticed, had armor that matched Brynjolf's. The first was a man who looked to be in his forties, with a shaved head and sunken eyes. The second, a woman with blond hair and a look on her face that could only be described as loath and disgust. Brynjolf walked over to the two, Maevyn trailing behind a bit shyly, looking at the stone-flagged floor as her mentor spoke.

"Delvin, Vex, this is my new apprentice, Maevyn Eldurvari"

Maevyn looked up and smiled at the two, and received mixed greetings.

The man called Delvin smiled back, "Welcome to the guild, missy. Here, you'll never be hungry or broke, as long as you do your job often and well." He extended a hand, which Maevyn graciously shook.

The woman, on the other hand, still wore the same expression as when they entered, if not more hostile. "Listen, let me get something straight here before you start walking around like a hot-shot. _We," _she said, circling her finger to include herself, Brynjolf, Delvin, and the other people in the Flagon, "are a family. Not you. You will not get in our way, you will do what everyone tells you, and you will not be treated with special care just because you're the bosses little pet project. As of now, you mean nothing to the Guild, you're disposable," she finished her sentence with a glare so icy and judging, it made Maevyn immediately bow her head and look at the floor again, an automatic apology bubbling to her lips.

"Vex!" Brynjolf and Delvin growled together. Brynjolf grabbed the woman roughly by the arm and dragged her out of earshot. Delvin pulled Maevyn aside and softly spoke to her after shooting glares toward Vex.

His hand was resting on her shoulder lightly, as if to comfort her,

"Gods damn," he said, "I specifically told her not to do that. She doesn't mean it, though. She's an arrogant horker; thinks she's the best thief in Skyrim, but I can tell you right away, she couldn't pick a pocket if her life depended on it. She is a good swindler and sneak, but she is certainly not the best. Listen, I apologize if she made you feel… worthless, but if Brynjolf picked you to be his protégé, you've got the skills."

Maevyn picked her head up and gave a small smile at Delvin's efforts to make her feel less like a fool. Delvin began again, encouraged by her response,

"I'd actually say she was a bit jealous. She's always had an attraction to Brynjolf. And when she saw _you,_ a beautiful young lass, it made her arrogance flare. She was trying to show you she is in control, that you are nothing but a whelp and could never be Brynjolf's new gal." He chuckled at his musings.

Maevyn shot fleeting glances at Brynjolf and Vex, cataloging her body language when she was close to her interest. She still had a disgruntled sneer on, but there was also a light in her eyes that revealed she was lusting hard for the head of the guild. Maevyn smiled at the thought of invoking jealousy in another woman for only being an apprentice.

She knew she was no beauty; her scar marring her face like an ugly deformity, her yellow-green eyes devoid of anything that expressed the emotions that were wrought in the blue eyes Vex had. Her body lacked the proper curves a man looked for, and her shy demeanor was what put men off the most. She knew she wouldn't be perceived as a threat for long.

Brynjolf walked away from Vex leaving her look a bit shocked at first, and then angered. As he came over to Maevyn and Delvin, he looked worriedly at his apprentice, seeing her head hang in shame and embarrassment before.

"Excuse us, Delvin," he said as he led Maevyn to a doorway.

"Maevyn," he began, "I am so very sorry for what Vex said. You are not disposable. You _are _a part of the family, and you will not be ordered around like a tavern wench." He patted her back as he finished, worry clouding his eyes.

"I'm fine," Maevyn began, "I just feel… intimidated, I suppose. I think she is right though, at the moment. Right now, I'm worthless to the guild. I have no experience, I haven't supplied any coin, and no one knows a thing about me. I'm a liability." She finished without a trace of depression or unnerve in her voice. She sounded confident and sure. She accepted what her status was.

Brynjolf smiled sadly as he told her that all of that was soon going to change.

The room the two entered was a small storage space filled with shelves and cupboards. Brynjolf walked to a cupboard on the far left and opened it, pushing a false panel back and revealing a new doorway. The doorway led to a room identical to the Flagon, but larger, and the pool in the middle was interrupted by a stone island-of-sorts that had three bridges connecting it to the outer walkway.

"This is the cistern," Brynjolf said, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. _For a band of thieves, things sure couldn't be very secretive in a place like this_, Maevyn thought. On the island, a man was standing with folded arms across his chest.

As Maevyn and Brynjolf walked up to the man, a slight sneer grew upon his lip.

_Great. So it's going to be another insulting introduction._

Brynjolf turned to Maevyn, "this is Mercer Frey. He is the leader of the Thieves Guild and plans all of our big heists and important client requests. I'm only the second-in-command, and deal with smaller jobs.

"And Mercer, this is Maevyn Eldurvari. You would not believe what this lass is capable of. She will prove to be an excellent addition."

As Brynjolf was talking to Mercer, Maevyn looked around the cistern. Few people were milling about, most of them male and wearing hoods that covered their faces. She shivered, a cold draft passing over her in the warm cavern. She looked around and located the source at Mercer's side; a glass sword was sheathed there, cold air rolling off of the blade.

_How mysterious, _thought Maevyn as she stared at it.

Her thoughts were cut off as Mercer addressed her, "There are some rules you should know of. First of all, you do not steal from the guild," he ended with a hard note, and Maevyn realized this was directed specifically at her musing of the sword. Embarrassed and frazzled, she quickly tried to explain she was no planning on stealing the guild master's weapon, but was cut off with his next rule.

"You will not kill any target; we are thieves, not the Dark Brotherhood,

"And lastly, 1/3 of your portions will be contributed to the guild," he finished as he looked squarely at her.

"Taken note of and understood," Maevyn replied, try to recover from his assumption.

"Good. Then I welcome you to the Thieves Guild, Maevyn. I understand Brynjolf wants to take you on as his personal apprentice. You should feel honored; Brynjolf is one of the best thieves I know. I'll let you get settled in here," he then turned to her mentor, "come back to me when that's all done and I will talk to you about the Goldenglow job."

Mercer turned and walked away after nodding to the two, going to a desk that was pushed against the wall. Brynjolf led her away to a set of chair, sitting down after motioning her to do the same,

"So lass, what do you think of the guild?" he asked, a bright smile on his face.

"Well, so far, there are two types of people here; friendly and enjoyable, like you and Delvin, and then others are cold and intimidating, like Vex and Mercer,"

"Ha! That pretty much sums it up, but most of us are friendly and open. Only a few are bitter and staunch, but don't worry about them.

"Now, here's the deal. As your mentor, I will accompany you on every job you go on, teaching you on the ways of the thief. I like you lass, and my ultimate goal is to elevate your status to a guild leader, such as myself. You have to understand the guild has a system; there are the common thieves, like you are now, who only do small petty jobs. Then there are the brokers, such as Delvin and Vex, who give out those jobs. Then there's I, a leader, who directs and secures all jobs and coinage. The master takes care of the big-time jobs that only the most trusted thieves can partake in, such as Vex, Delvin, or I. There are also special positions that you can't earn, like Tonilia; she is a fence, and buys and sells you the goods you have stolen. She is essential to our faction. Understand?"

Maevyn was glad he would be with her on jobs; she liked Brynjolf and was the only person she could really trust at the moment. She was also excited at the prospect of becoming a leader with Brynjolf.

"Yes," she said, but thought for a moment, "but before you talk to Mercer about that special job he mentioned, can we go on some simple jobs, so I can receive some guidance?"

Brynjolf laughed, "of course we can. Let's go get you your very own set of guild armor from Tonilia," he paused a moment, and looked Maevyn in the eye and said, "let's start your life as a thief,"

* * *

**AuthorsNote: Well, here is the next chapter of my Skyrim story. Don't really have anything more to say today other than comments and suggestions are very much appreciated. Have a pleasant day. **


	4. Through the Eyes of a Mentor

Brynjolf watched Maevyn from across the cistern as she examined her newly acquired armor, watching her as she took note of the many pockets that were attached to the chest piece and pants. He enjoyed seeing her face light up as she discovered each new hidden pocket, like she received an unexpected gift. He then watched as she placed the items on her new bed and walk around the cavern, stopping at each person that was present.

Brynjolf noticed she did not have an air of superiority about her, as most of the members here did; she was quiet, but missed no detail that passed her vision. He liked that about Maevyn; she didn't think herself above others, she was humble, and that was important to Brynjolf. That was the first reason why he choose her to complete the job yesterday; what some people would call 'shy' and 'not worth noticing', he called 'inconspicuous' and 'stealthy'. People didn't notice her when she walked by because of her small demeanor, and that was what made her the perfect thief.

Most of the members of the guild were men, and he watched as she walked up to each one and captured their attention. He wondered if she would be to the men what he was to the women: an item, a luxury, something to lust for. He saw the spark develop in their eyes that could only mean they were undressing her mentally, and decided the answer was a _yes; _he was only familiar with the look because it was the same spark that grew in the women when he spoke to them. It's not like Brynjolf didn't want the attention, but it got annoying after a while when the same three women that belonged to the guild tried to recapture his eyes day after day.

_She is a beaut, _Brynjolf thought as images of her cat-like eyes and petite figure surfaced in his mind. He quickly wiped away his thoughts; he didn't need his man-hood distracting him, the only woman he needed at the moment was Lady Luck. But he did think about keeping a special eye on his apprentice; many of the men here sought pleasure in the night and would no doubt hound Maevyn for her body.

He liked Maevyn, she was agreeable and nice, but a bit timid. She didn't try to vie for his attention or say unnecessary things. She didn't demand the floor at all times as some of the women he knew did. She gave you the ability to think; he could see them becoming close friends soon and was glad they were now partners.

After she was done talking to everyone in the room, Maevyn went back to her bed and picked up her armor again. She walked to a divider that provided privacy and hung the gear over the edge. Brynjolf saw as a leather chest plate and gauntlets clattered to the floor and the thieves guild set disappear over the top; she reappeared with the hood down, looking quite the part of a seasoned thief. She sat down on the edge of her bed and picked up a book from her bedside table, flipping through the pages.

Brynjolf walked over to the guild master at his desk, "Mercer, before I go on this Golden glow job, I was wondering if Maevyn and I could do some simpler runs, so she could become familiar with the ropes before taking on the bigger project,"

Mercer's lip curled as he sneered, "I thought you said she was good. A good thief wouldn't need to be 'shown the ropes'," he glared as he continued, "but if the beginner needs more practice, so be it. Just make it quick, Maven Black-Briar won't wait too long,"

"Thank you, Mercer,"

Brynjolf walked over to Maevyn, a dent between his brow at the prospect of throwing his new student into one of the more difficult jobs.

She looked up and smiled as he approached her. She was reading Shadowmarks, a book Delvin had written describing all of the symbols the guild used and what they meant,

"I didn't know thieves avoided some people," she said as she pointed to a page in the book that displayed a rhombus shape with two overlapping circles in the center,

"Those people are the ones who are good customers to the guild, such as the Black-Briars. Steal from them, and we would lose their business," he said as he sat down in a chair next to her, "How do you like your armor? Does it fit well?"

She looked down at her torso, "I love it. It's loose and comfortable, I can actually move in it," she said as she kicked her leather suit that still lay on the ground. "I don't care for the hood too much, though. It kind of obscures my vision."

"Ah lass, but that helps protect your identity. But it's up to you if you wish to wear it or not,

"I talked to Mercer, and he said that the Goldenglow job could wait until I take you out on some more simple tasks. We'll talk to Delvin and Vex for those. Now, I want you to know that I won't be picking these jobs for you; you can decide what jobs you do or don't want. I am here to guide and train you. And I will take you with me on the bigger jobs I have to do. Maevyn, I'm not only your mentor, but your partner now." Brynjolf smiled as he said this, his grin mirroring the sun that broke the horizon on a clear morning. He then handed her his own personal set of lockpicks that he considered his lucky ones; the set Mercer gave him when he joined 23 years ago, cementing their partnership as thieves

* * *

**AuthorsNote: Hello, this is a shorter chapter, but I thought it should be since this story is basically from Maevyn's point of view. I did want to throw in Brynjolf's perspective, just to spice it up, but don't expect it too often. I may write one more from his PoV towards the end. I hope you enjoy! Comments are always welcome and I hope you have a wonderful day. **


	5. Becoming the Shadow

Maevyn and Brynjolf slowly crept around one of the three cobblestone houses in Shor's Stone, a tiny mining community north of Riften. It couldn't even be called a village, it was so tiny. _More like a… a- _Maevyn couldn't even think of a proper name to place on the area because of its lack of tenants. _A dwelling? How about a set of hovels? Oh! A homestead, that's what it is. _

As the two crouched near the front steps of Filnjar's house, they discussed the plan.

"So, I go to the door, pick the lock, grab the circlet from inside, and slip out, correct?" Maevyn asked.

She remembered walking up to Vex in the Flagon and inquiring about a job, which in turn, she received the task of stealing a copper and ruby circlet from Filnjar's house. Along with the job, she also received a nasty glare and a string of insults from the broker, which temporarily sent Maevyn in a flustered state. Shaking her head to clear the memory, she listened to what Brynjolf was saying,

"Yes. Now the circlet won't just be lying around on the table or hearth. You have to search for it, but _very, very _carefully. Do not leave a hair out of place in which you found it. Go as quietly as you can. Lass, we're only here for the circlet, but if something valuable catches your eye, take it. Just make sure it's not something too extravagant."

Maevyn nodded as she drew in a slow breath, "Alright. What will you do?"

"Whatever you need me to,"

She smiled at him. Maevyn could see this would be an excellent partnership; he would guide her and she would be his student, carrying out any task he asked of her. And when she became more skilled, they would be _real _partners where they would work together on bigger jobs, clearing whole estates of all valuables and treasures, or robbing a Jarl of his headpiece or jeweled urn. And when they were done, they would go to the inn and have a tankard or two. They would be leaders together, when she was good enough. She was glad to have Brynjolf as her partner now.

Maevyn nodded again, conveying that she wanted to do this by herself.

"You sure lass?"

She nodded again as he looked on with an expression of approval.

The moonlight that illuminated the area around them did not appear on the porch beneath the thatched overhang, and was instead shrouded in inky shadows. Maevyn crept up the steps, stepping as softly as a deer, and slithered into the surrounding darkness. She looked back at her mentor, and saw he wore an expression that conveyed astonishment and disbelief. Worried, she stepped into the moonlight again, and his face changed to one of awe, which seemed very odd to Maevyn. Shrugging, she returned to the shadows and crouched by the door, taking out a lock pick she had bought from Tonilia. Maevyn didn't want to use the set Brynjolf had given her; she understood that they meant something to him, that they were old, as they were a different make than the ones she usually bought. She would save them, she decided, it was a special gift from mentor to student.

Inserting the tumbler and pick into the key hole, Maevyn held her breath as she intently listened for the set of clicks that indicated the tumbler was in the right position.

_Chck, chck, chck._

The dead bolt slid back with a soft bang and Maevyn inched the door open as to not activate any possible squeaky hinges. As she slipped inside and scoped the room, her pulse grew faster, her heart beat loud and strong with the thought of the numerous ways she could be caught. She could feel the excitement pour through her veins as she thought of the risk and dangers this task held. She smiled at the rush that was building up inside of her and knew what she had to do to release it: _find that circlet. _

She took note of the room; there was a fireplace in front of her, shelves and a table to her left, and Filnjar was in his bed, loudly snoring with each inhale. _Where would someone keep valuable items? There's a chest at the end of the bed, and a strongbox on the table. Better take the chest first._

Still crouching, she stepped across the floor to the box, only the sound of her heartbeat and the man's snoring to keep her company. As she opened the slowly, she saw there were old clothes and pelts in the chest, along with a half-eaten sweet roll. _Disgusting, _she thought as her nose involuntarily wrinkled when she saw the mold-riddled treat. _I should sift around. It might be buried. _Sticking her hand in the pile of slightly smelly clothes, she felt around for the cool metal of jewelry, which she did not find. Closing the lid of the trunk, she skirted to the other side of the room where the table was.

The strongbox sat next to a plate of cheese and bread, its rusty exterior emanating a slightly metallic smell through the small area. The cheese, Maevyn noticed, was also riddled with mold. _Does this man not know how to clean up? No wonder he's not married. _She wanted to hold her breath at the sight of the mold, which would be ridiculous, but still fixed her breaths until they were shorter and quicker. The box had a simple lock, which Maevyn unlocked in the blink of an eye. The circlet was there, along with 152 septims, an amethyst and an emerald.

She contemplated what to take. She didn't want to take everything, but enough to make the man ponder if he misplaced his items or sold them off. Only enough to make the smallest impression that could be interpreted as his own fault.

She placed only the amethyst, the circlet and half the gold in her satchel, and turned on her heel as she took small steps towards the door. Slipping out like a cat, she joined Brynjolf at the side of the house.

The moonlight lit his face so Maevyn could see his amazed expression, the same look he gave her before she entered the house.

"You were in there for less than four minutes, lass. And when you stepped into the shadows, you literally _vanished,_" he trailed off.

"Was I? And I did? I guess the contrast between the light and darkness made it hard to see, and it didn't feel that long. I'm sorry if I took too much time, it's just that I wanted to make sure I hadn't missed anything important. And I had to look in multiple places before I actually found the circlet."

"No, no, it's the exact opposite, Maevyn. We haven't had someone do this kind of job in that short span of time in a long while…

"Let's go back to the Flagon and talk," Brynjolf said as flashed an proud grin at Maevyn.

* * *

The two sat at the table next to Maevyn's bed in the cistern after returning the circlet and collecting the money, each with a bottle of mead in hand. After taking a long drink from his bottle, Brynjolf laughed,

"You're a born natural, Maevyn! I haven't seen _anyone _with your skills since… Well, it doesn't matter," he laughed, trying to cover his fluke that almost slipped out. Maevyn was curious as to why he wouldn't say, but decided not to press it at the moment,

"You think so?" she asked, taking a swig from her own bottle, "I mean, this was only my first job, and it couldn't have been _that _impressive. I'm sure lots of people could do better than me."

"Oh no, lass. Most of the men you see here in the cistern have been here for at least four years, and they could only just meet the time it took you to get that circlet. I knew you were a gem when I saw you in the market the other day. Maevyn, soon enough, you'll be a leader alongside me," he smiled brightly, his eyes shimmering with excitement.

Maevyn laughed as she looked down in embarrassment at being praised by her mentor.

"I don't know, Brynjolf. I think you're overestimating my abilities. But thank you, for encouraging me,"

He chortled at her modesty and finished the rest of his mead, "So, what did you think of your first job?"

"It was fun. I could feel a rush as soon as I stepped inside of the house. I think it's the risk that makes my blood pump," she looked at the bottle in her hands as she said this, revolving the bottle and watching the slightly brown liquid swirl around in a vortex. "But I know I can do better than tonight. I just need more practice."

Her mentor looked at her thoughtfully as she finished.

"When did you become a thief?" she asked him.

"Well lass, I'm 32 years old, and I joined when I was around 10, so 23 years ago,"

Maevyn looked at him in astonishment, "_nine? _You were that young when you became a thief? How, if I may ask."

He gave a small laugh and began, "I grew up here, in The Rift. When I was about two, my parents were killed in a bandit raid and I was sent to Honorhall orphanage, in Riften. I was not a good kid, always stealing food or pieces of gold from Grelod the Kind. Damn that woman to Oblivion, she was the cruelest hag that ever lived. She beat us and hardly gave us food, she locked us up in a closet and constantly had us do endless work. The worst part was, she never let any one of us be adopted…

"One day, I had stolen a slice of bread from the larder, and she caught me. She said she was done with the beasts like myself and she threw me out. Just grabbed me by the neck and shoved my through the door and out onto to walkway like I was a dog that was being scolded, screaming she had the worst life, being forced to watch over brats. After that, I lived in Beggars' Row for about a month, often stealing food from Marise Aravel and her market stall. I got pretty good at it after a while, and that's when Mercer noticed my aptitude. He took me away and showed me what it was like to be a _real _thief. By the time I was 21, I was the second-in-command, the youngest the guild had ever seen. And here I am now, with an extraordinary apprentice of my own." As he finished, he folded his hands and looked down.

Maevyn felt her heartstrings tighten as she heard Brynjolf's sad story. She could never imagine a life without her parents who had given her everything. She didn't know what to say, couldn't offer any words of condolence that would express her sympathy, so she reached over and patted his hand.

"Don't be sad lass. There's nothing that could change it. And if Grelod had never thrown me out, I wouldn't know this amazing life, or have a friend such as yourself," he looked up as he said this and offered a smile so genuine and alluring that it almost made Maevyn lose her train of thought.

_Gods, has he always been this attractive? _She shook her head; she couldn't develop an attraction to her _mentor_. But his dark story had piqued her interests, and added to his attraction factor, along with his deep blue eyes and strong accented voice. _Gods no, Maevyn, stop thinking about him! _Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced other thoughts to surface to her mind, such as recipes for intricate potions and poisons.

_Ravage health potion: squeeze jazbay juice from berries, but do not get any on hands as it stains skin. Mix with finely chopped scathecraw leaves. Set aside. Cut iris from sabre cat eye and mince, add to previous mixture. Grind dried Giant Lichen to a fine powder; take care not to breath in too much before adding that to mixture-_

"Maevyn?" Brynjolf had a crease between his brows, expressing worry, "is everything alright? Did my story upset you?"

She quickly shook her head, erasing all thoughts, "No, it didn't. I was just thinking of my own parents." She then mentally kicked herself. _Don't start talking about mom and dad when his are _dead! But it was too late; he already asked about them.

She smiled apologetically, "My pa died in the Great War, and my mother is in High Rock."

"Oh, why is she there? Are you from there?"

"No, the Eldurvari bloodline is purely from Skyrim. After pa died, she didn't feel right… She was getting old and couldn't keep up with the labor the forest demanded. So she left,"

"Did you ever think of following her?"

"Oh yes, I was actually just about to cross the border into High Rock when I was attacked by Imperial Guards."

His eyebrows raised in astonishment as he learned of her "criminal" past. She finished up with how she was summoned to High Hrothgar and was now the Dragonborn, adding in the battles with dragons when explanation was necessary. Brynjolf leaned back in his chair and gave a low whistle.

"Wow. My apprentice, the dragonborn."

Maevyn then rushed out the next words, "Please don't think of me any differently now that you know I'm supposed to save the world. I'm still Maevyn Eldurvari, the shy woman you picked up in the market. I don't want my life to be altered because of this." She sighed and held her head in her hands, "I am supposed to go find this horn of Jurgen Windcaller for the Grey Beards. But I can wait a bit for that."

Brynjolf flashed a smile as he offered words to her, "I swear that I will not think of you any differently than before. You are still Maevyn Eldurvari, an amazing thief and woman," he said these words with so much truth and sincerity that Maevyn looked up in astonishment. She hadn't expected that. But she was grateful for it and smiled, thanking him for his vow.

"Now," she asked, "what do we do?"

* * *

**AuthorsNote: I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I know it may be a bit ramble-y with all of the dialogue, but I had to get it out. I love comments and suggestions on my stories, just so you know (hinthint). Thank you for reading, and have a pleasant day. **


	6. A Day Off

Of all the men in the guild (besides Brynjolf), Maevyn liked Vipir the Fleet the best. He was polite and kind, and often offered words of wisdom that would benefit and improve her skills as a thief. At the beginning of each day, the two often went to the small training room and talked while shooting bows or slicing the hay out of dummies. Another good thing about Vipir was that he was one of the best lock pickers Maevyn had ever seen; he could open a master leveled lock in less than a minute without breaking any picks. He had often shown her tips to lockpicking, and she was a quick learner, but often "took too much time deciding where the correct tumbler position was," he said.

"I want to make sure I don't miss it the first time I go around," she protested, a broken pick in hand and a discouraged dent between her brows.

"Ah, but the thing is, you have to be quick and unconcerned when picking locks; be confident. You want to try the three most obvious positions first: the center, then the left, then the right. If your pick hasn't broken by then, go in between those spaces and try. Keep repeating that until you succeed. You'll have an easier time with that, I think," Vipir said, demonstrating with the own lock in front of him.

Maevyn sighed as she tried this on the expert leveled lock in front of her, twisting the tumbler in the three positions, and then in between those, minimalizing the space between rotations as she heard the set of clicks. The lock sprang open and she smiled, proud that she had done it.

"See? It's much easier that way," Vipir said, a smug grin on his face.

"Yes, yes. Thank you Vipir, I very much appreciate it." Maevyn smiled at her friend and collected the pouch of gold that was in the chest and tossed it to him in compensation. She then slung Bellara, her glass bow, off of her back and began shooting at the dummy that was pinned high on the wall. Vipir took out a pair of daggers and started to work at the dummy to her left, creating a rhythmic pattern with his swings.

"So, how are your jobs with the boss?" he asked after a pile of straw had gathered under his dummy.

"Fairly well. Brynjolf says I'm very good at it. But I think he's just being nice to me about it,"

"I don't know, Maevyn. You are very good with lockpicking, even though you've been with us for only half a month. And Delvin and Brynjolf both boast at your pickpocketing and sneaking ability. Actually, I think I've heard a good thing about you from everyone in the guild. Besides Vex," he chuckled.

There was a satisfying thwacking sound as Maevyn's arrow pierced the dummy's head. "I don't _feel _that way though," she said after she turned to face him, "I feel only average."

Vipir shook his head as she began shooting at the practice dummy again, but still admired the way she always hit either the dead center of the head or the chest. "You know, you are pretty handy with that bow. Have you been taking lessons from Niruin?"

"No. I've been using a bow since I was about nine. Had to for hunting," she stopped grabbing arrows from her quiver and placed Bellara on her back, embarrassed at his observation and compliment. She sighed and gave an apologetic smile when she noticed Vipir's confused expression.

"Why do you always get embarrassed when someone compliments you?" he questioned, one brow arching above normal level.

"I don't know. I guess I don't care for being noticed too much," Maevyn looked down at her brown leather shoes as she said this, her face growing slightly warm.

Vipir laughed when he saw her blushing cheeks, "Ha! It's adorable how you grow red like that."

Maevyn tried to twist her face into a scowl, but the smile that pulled on the corners of her mouth would not allow that. Her attempts to act angry made him chuckle more, and she joined in, letting the smile spread fully across her face. That grin though, did change into a wicked one, if only for a brief moment.

"Well, I think I'll go now. I need to talk to Cynric," she said as she walked behind Vipir to retrieve her satchel.

"Oh, all right," he said as he took out his daggers once again.

Once behind him, Maevyn held out her palm as a small bolt of lightning shot out, hitting the man squarely on the buttocks, which made him drop both daggers and yelp loudly. When he realized the shock didn't even hurt, he started to laugh at his overreaction and then looked at Maevyn, who was holding her stomach and wiping a tear from her eye, which made him laugh all the more harder.

Maevyn loved this relationship she shared with Vipir. He was like a brother to her; they could tease and try to outdo each other, but they were always there for one another, helping with whatever problems there were. With him, Maevyn could laugh and be less guarded, and it felt good. It was a relief that she didn't always have to be so serious when she was here, in the cistern. Brynjolf also gave off the same vibe as Vipir did, laid back and easy-going, but you just couldn't shock your mentor in the butt and get away with it. _Not yet, anyway_, thought Maevyn, and grinned at the thought of becoming closer to him.

Once the two were done laughing, they exited the practice room together and into the cistern. There, they parted ways after exchanging "goodbyes" and "shadows guide you". Now, Maevyn didn't have anything to really do. She had been with the guild for about half a month and completed about fourteen jobs, all with Brynjolf, and she decided to rest this day.

_I suppose I could ask him about that Goldenglow job. I'm pretty sure I can handle that now. _

Looking around the room, she spotted her mentor at the desk with Mercer. They were looking over a ledger and scribbling on pieces of parchment and looked very focused on the task. She decided to wait until he was done with that and walked over to her bed, where she picked up her copy of The Beggar Prince and began to read.

Maevyn was pulled out of the story when Brynjolf sat in the chair next to the bed and patiently folded his hands.

"Hello Brynjolf," Maevyn said as she sat up and sat on the edge of the bed, "I was just about to come to you, but you were busy,"

"Hello lass. Did you need to talk about something?"

"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about that Goldenglow job. I think I'm ready for this."

"Ha, that's why I initially came over here. Well, that's excellent. I have no doubt that you aren't ready for this. The past weeks have benefitted you greatly and forged you into an excellent thief, as I knew you would become. I suppose we should head out tomorrow evening, if you like. Now, this job was given to us by Maven Black-Briar, and it's imperative that we do this job thoroughly and well. The Black-Briars are the most influential family in The Rift, and we definitely do not want to displease her. Plus, she is the guilds main source of income at the moment." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he finished, waiting for Maevyn's response.

"Alright. Tomorrow evening sounds like a good plan. We will do this the right way and collect every valuable item."

"Lass, this isn't just a regular job. It had intricate and precise reasons if Maven commissioned us. I'll give you more detail before we set out tomorrow," he then smiled at her with such warmth, she almost dropped the book on the floor.

Embarrassed, she watched as he got up and walked away, thinking how lucky she was to have him as a friend and mentor.

* * *

After dinner, Maevyn was idly strolling around the cistern, chatting with Rune, Cynric, and Thrynn for a bit, exchanging thoughts on weaponry and the current weather in Riften, which was overcast.

After leaving the group, she sat down in the char by her bed, thinking. Not even a few moments later, Thrynn joined her again, sitting in the chair beside her,

"So, Maevyn," he said as he stretched back in the chair, "you're a beautiful woman,"

She looked up in surprise, a red flush immediately rushing to her face as she received the unexpected compliment, "Oh, why thank you, Thrynn. It's very kind of you to say that," she said, her fingers immediately lacing together as they often did when she was nervous.

"And," he began, "I'm a handsome man, aren't I? And I was thinking… Maybe you and I could, oh I don't know, practice becoming better thieves by doing a special sneak session together? I hear having no clothes on while practicing really attunes you to how your body moves." He finished by placing his hand on her thigh and a coy smile on his lips, to Maevyn's horror.

She jumped up from her chair and narrowed her eyes as hostility colored her tone, "Thrynn, do not ever ask me that. Do not think you can 'woo' me with that kind of talk. Do not even think of me in such a way. And certainly do not touch me ever again. Now leave, I do not wish to talk or see you right now,"

She crossed her arms over her chest as the taken-aback expression left his face and was replaced by a look of irritation. "Leave," she said through clenched teeth.

He got up and stiffly walked away to the door that led to the Flagon, not speaking a word as he left.

_Gods, _Maevyn thought, _it's despicable. That pig-headed chaurus… How can he think I'm beautiful? _She looked around at the men of the guild and thought, _the men here have been very kind to me…The way they look at me and give me their full attention… They're not doing it out of courtesy... _Maevyn suddenly did not feel very comfortable, she felt exposed. _At least Brynjolf and Vipir aren't like that. Ugh. _

She then wondered why the men would take an interest in her, _do they think I'm attractive? That I have a body worth coveting at night?_ She stood up and stared into the looking glass that hung up on the divider. Her bosom was a moderate size, not too big or commanding, but there was _something, _and not nothing there. Her hindquarters were slim, but had the tiniest bit of lift, which she noticed a bit proudly. Her face was of fair complexion, light and unmarked, excluding the scar on the left side of her face. Her eyes were bright and nicely shaped. Her nose though, was not tiny like some of the women's' she saw in the taverns. Hers was straight all the way through, but not glaringly protruding. It was a strong nose, she decided, and wasn't ashamed of it.

Overall, Maevyn still didn't think she was beautiful, but she wasn't ugly, either. Sighing, she sat back down and stared at the floor, thinking of how men might see her. She knew she wasn't ready to settle down, and it's not like she wanted to go whoring around every night. But she wanted some kind of partner. _Brynjolf! _Her mind screamed at her, which caused her to blush very much. Her mentor was not a viable option. He was her teacher! But Maevyn couldn't stop the images from floating to her mind; images of a shirtless red-haired man, one who held her close and kissed her softly.

_STOP! I can NOT think like that! _She quickly stood up and scurried to the alchemy lab that was on the other side of the cistern. There, she busied herself the rest of the night making the most complicated, time-consuming potions she knew.

* * *

**AuthorsNote: Well, here is the next chapter. I know it isn't too exciting, but details are good sometimes. As always, comments and criticism are always welcomed. Have a pleasant day. **


	7. A Sticky Situation

Hunched over a table in the corner of the cistern, Maevyn sluggishly spooned the hot grain into her mouth, fighting sleep as it threatened to force her to land face-first in her breakfast. _Why did I stay up so late, again? _A small bowl of freshly sliced fruit appeared next to her porridge, and she looked up to find Brynjolf standing next to her, a warm smile on his lips,

"G'mornin' lass,"

_Right. Him._

"Hello," Maevyn mumbled, her eyes drooping as she laid her head down on the splintering tabletop.

Brynjolf smiled in amusement, "Well now, I see you had a late night? Hitting the books again?"

"No, potions this time. Here," she handed him a large bottle with a whitish liquid inside, "waterbreathing potion. I asked Delvin about the job yesterday, and he said it was on an island-of-sorts, so I took the liberty of brewing this up. I hope you don't mind," she mumbled as she grabbed an apple slice from the bowl.

Brynjolf smiled at her gift and sat across from her. He too handed her something: a small bottle of firebrand wine, "this should wake you up a bit,"

Maevyn flashed a tired smile and took a tiny sip from the bottle, relishing in the warmth that spread through her veins. The drink _did _wake her up, and she felt much less like a tavern girl who "served" patrons all night.

"Thank you," she said, taking another small sip from the bottle; she could taste the heavy notes of briar heart, the main ingredient in the wine that gave it its distinct fiery properties.

"Alright," Brynjolf began as Maevyn finished off the drink, "We'll leave for Goldenglow as the sun lowers. It's not too far from Riften, we just have to follow along the shore of Lake Honrich and we'll come to a close enough spot to swim to the island."

"What exactly are we doing at Glodenglow?"

"Here's the deal lass: we were working with Maven Black-Briar to insure the honey from Goldenglow got to the Black-Briar meadery without a problem, and we recieved large sums of money from it. Aringoth, the owner, is no longer sending shipments to the meadery, and it's up to us to send him a message that says we're not to be crossed. So you and I are going to the island to burn a number of apiaries. Maybe even pay him a personal visit." He finished and folded his hands, waiting for Maevyn's input.

"Hmm. Surely the place has some type of security? If this Aringoth has a reason for double-crossing the guild and Maven, I would think he's either scared or extremely confident."

"Exactly so. He has mercenaries all over the outside of the estate, as well as in the manor. We'll have to kill them," he added grimly, his voice lowering as he looked at his hands.

Maevyn absentmindedly nodded in agreement, thoughts and ideas flitting through her head.

_I'm not one for intimidation. Or killing people, for that matter. The guards won't be too much of a problem, because they'll try and attack me on sight. But Aringoth… maybe we can persuade him. What if we get caught and thrown in jail; after all, he is wealthy if he owns an estate and a honey farm. But then again, Maven is in on this with us, so she could bail us out if that were the case… _

"Alright," Maevyn said, still grasping onto lingering thoughts.

"Now, Vex did try this job a few weeks ago herself, and returned with a bruised ego and a sour attitude that lasted all week. More sour than usual, at least." He added with a chuckle.

This new information thrilled Maevyn. If she could do something that Vex couldn't, it would prove that she was valuable to the guild. Plus, no doubt it would spite her, which Maevyn would thoroughly enjoy. But then again, if Vex couldn't do it, could she? Mixed emotions ran through Maevyn's mind as she weighed both outcomes and probabilities of the two scenarios. Pushing the thoughts aside for when she was alone, she addressed Brynjolf,

"Do we necessarily need to do this at night? I mean, it's not like we're trying to be secretive about it."

"Very true, lass. What do you say about going before supper?"

Maevyn nodded, smiling as the plan and strategies were sorted out. Even when the two were done talking about the job, the two stayed at the table for another hour, chatting about previous jobs and stories the two had not shared yet. Laughter and smiles from both weaved in and out through their conversation, making Maevyn feel as confident as ever.

* * *

The sun began to tilt towards the West as many people enter the Bee and Barb for their evening meal, while Maevyn and Brynjolf exited through the large doors of the city and onto the cobbled road. Walking past the stables, Brynjolf turned onto a slight path that led to the lake, motioning Maevyn to walk beside him so he could easily talk to her.

"Now, Aringoth is an Altmer, and very stingy and stubborn one at that. If he doesn't comply when we talk to him, we will kill him. He himself is not essential to the flow of honey to the meadery, and we could always run the business ourselves. I bet Tonilia would have her hands full with that," he added with a smile as the descending sun cast and orange glow over the two, making Brynjolf's hair turn a deep shimmering red and transforming his eyes into two sapphires. Maevyn almost stumbled as she gazed at him, and shook her head as she realized how idiotic she was being.

_Stop thinking about him! Focus on the task at hand and save the shenanigans for later. _

Looking across the lake, she saw the estate; it was very large, even though the island itself was not that big. She could see people moving across paths and bridges, almost looking like ants, ambling along lazily.

Brynjolf looked at her as he talked, "We should only burn three apiaries. We don't want to find a new proprietor for honey. Maven would not like that."

He stopped on the path, turning to face the island, pulled out the bottle Maevyn gave to him earlier, unstopped the cork, and drank the contents in two gulps. Maevyn followed, pulling out her own potion.

"Hey lass, this doesn't taste too bad. I've had some of these that taste like there was sewage and rotten fish heads in it. Maevyn smiled appreciatively, her insides wriggling from his compliment.

_Maevyn…_ Her conscience warned, _do not get distracted… _

The cool, murky water enveloped them as they dove in, making Maevyn shiver for a moment as the external temperatures changed from hot to cold in an instant. Maevyn knew the salty marsh water should sting her eyes as she opened them beneath the surface, but the potion prevented the pain and obscurity from burdening her.

Movement below her caught her eye and she looked down to see Brynjolf, swimming along the bottom, weaving in and out of the subaquatic vegetation, looking every part of striking mystical creature with his red hair rippling behind him. Silvery bubbles escaped her lips and rushed to the surface as she giggled and joined him, running the silt through her fingers as she skimmed the lake floor.

The two came to the bank of the island, crouching as they crept up to the steps that led to the raised part of land. He moved closer to her so he could whisper in her ear, his breath tickling her neck and making her shiver in delight.

"We'll take out the mercenaries, and then destroy the apiaries. After that, we'll go to Aringoth,"

Maevyn only nodded as she pulled Bellara off her back, aiming at the burly man who had just walked past them. Letting the arrow fly loose, it lodged in the back of the man's neck, causing him to collapse on the ground in a gasping heap. The other mercenaries rushed to him, some pulling out their swords and maces while others bent next to the man, seeing what had happened. Looking beside her as she pulled another arrow from her quiver, she saw Brynjolf was no longer there, but was instead on the other side of the island, his red hair giving away his position to her. He too, had a bow in his hands, rapidly firing arrows in a multitude of directions.

Deciding he had long distance covered, she rushed at the group of men with a dagger in each hand. As she neared the first man, she stabbed one hand to his neck, a deep _schlick _sounding as she pulled her dagger out and he collapsed on the ground. Another man rushed at her, an arrow appearing in his side before he faltered, but he still kept coming. She ran at him, her daggers slicing into his sides as blood poured from his wounds. He screamed in intense agony before she ran her hand along his throat and slit it. Quickly spinning around, she saw Brynjolf had joined her in the fray, dagger in hand. A woman had a bow drawn, aimed at him, and Maevyn immediately sprinted before she let the arrow loose. The mercenary was wearing fur clothing that only covered her bosom and lower regions. _I bet she wasn't planning for an attack, if she dressed like that. Possibly a night with many of these men, but not an attack, _Maevyn thought as she closed the gap. Nearing her, she thrust both daggers into her stomach, lifting her slightly off the ground as blood poured from the logged knives. Her breath came out in a rush as the light left her eyes and Maevyn threw the carcass to the ground, looking at carnage.

Brynjolf was limping, a dark stain blossoming across his upper thigh, but still pursuing the remaining mercenaries. Pulling her bow out once again, she aimed at the man who was advancing toward Brynjolf, a greatsword raised above his head. The arrow landed squarely between his eyes, the sword clattering to the dirt as he fell. Only two more mercenaries remained, and were quickly taken out with three arrows and a few slices from Brynjolf.

As the last man collapsed, so did Brynjolf. Maevyn rushed over to him, her face streaming with sweat and creased with worry. He smiled at her when she arrived, trying to prove that he was in no pain, but the grimace on his face told her otherwise.

* * *

**AuthorNote: Okay, so I know this fight scene is not the best, and I'm sure I'll come back and edit it in a bit; opinions on it?**

**I would also like to give a shout-out to Elissa Theirin, an amazing writer who gave me a chance when no one seemed to care. All of my thanks goes out to you, Elissa! **

**On a different note, I may be looking for a beta-reader. PM me if you may be interested. **

**As always, comments and suggestions are always appreciated. Have a pleasant day!**


	8. A Sticky Situation- Part 2

"Lass, I'm okay. It's just a small cut," Brynjolf panted as he held his hand over his injury.

"You're wearing undergarments, correct?" Maevyn asked, her heart beating in rapid rhythms as she surveyed the bloodied trousers.

Brynjolf nodded, confusion flickering across his face and then horror as he realized her intent, already seeing the orange glow beginning to emanate from her palm.

"No, no, no. I don't think that's necessary," he stammered, his face growing red as Maevyn raised an eyebrow.

"Brynjolf, you're hurt, and I can fix it. You still have undergarments on." She said in a soft voice, but inside, her thoughts were reeling at the prospect of undressing him.

As he began to pull off the leather trousers, Maevyn located a nearby bucket and filled it with water from the lake, towing it back to the injured man. As she neared, she saw the blood was still flowing from the wound, streaming onto the grass in cimson rivers.

"I'm going to pour the water on the cut to clean it up, Alright? Then after that, I'll use a healing spell to close the wound. All of the pain won't go away, but I have a potion that should help," she explained as she examined the injury thoroughly.

Maevyn tried her hardest not to get distracted by the fact he was lying half-naked in front of her as she doused his leg with water. His face contorted in pain as the icy water entered his veins, making her wince at the prospect of hurting him more. After the blood was washed away, she laid her palm to his leg and thought of the past, letting memories from her childhood flood her mind.

_She was sitting in a chair in front of the hearth, the waves of warmth hit her back as a pretty woman with yellow-green eyes ran a brush through her hair, twisting the raven strands into an elegant style._

_"Oh my little mountain flower, you'll look so beautiful when I'm done," Maevyn's mother gushed, a proud smile sitting on her lips. "You won't go messing it up when I'm done with it, will you? Only the Gods will know why you enjoy romping around so much in the forest…" she trailed off as she finished the elaborate braid. _

_"No, mama," the young girl said, squirming in her seat from sitting still for so long. _

Maevyn smiled as she remembered her past self, immediately running through the door to find papa when her mother had finished, wishing to show him how much of a lady she had transformed into, just by having a different hairstyle.

A good amount of magic had flown from her hands and into Brynolf's leg when the memory ended, leaving nothing behind but a very faint line of discolored tissue. Evev when the final orange strands ebbed from her palm, Maevyn still kept her hand on Brynjolf's leg, the memory lingering.

"Maevyn," Brynjolf said, eyebrows raised as he took her hand in his and removed it from his thigh, "thank you, lass. I would be in very much pain if you weren't here," he finished as he offered a heart-warming smile.

"Yes…" Maevyn trailed as the warmth from his hand pushed the final fragments of her past life from her mind, replacing them with embrassingly erotic thoughts. "Erm, Yes. Yes, of course, Brynjolf. I have to look after my partner. Now how do you feel?" She stammered, tripped by the new turn her thoughts had taken.

"Very good. Actually, I think I feel better now than I did when we left the cistern," he chuckled as he pulled on his trousers. "Now, let's go burn some apiaries. Do you happen to know any fire spells? I'm not too particularly fond of magic…" he confessed, looking down at his hands.

_Finally, something _I _can teach him!_

"Yes," Maevyn said, a large smile pushing up her cheeks, "I was thinking just a simple flam spell, rather than a ball of fire. That might be too big and spread to more than three of the hives,"

"Smart lass, smart", he said as they crossed a bridge.

* * *

The smell of sweetened smoke still lingered in her nostrils as Maevyn and Brynjolf entered the manor, trying to sneak past the mercenaries that still remained. Keeping to the shadows of the long, slim hallways, the pair had to squeeze around tightly packed furniture, which Maevyn did with ease, bring lithe and petite, but her mentor had a bit more trouble with his muscular frame. Peering around corners and into rooms, they searched for the altmer, but also kept out of sights of the burly men that lounged in the various rooms.

Walking up a flight of stairs, they found themselves in a large room with a raised dais in the middle, a large bed upon it. Large wardrobes and shelves lined the walls, along with expensive-looking paintings of flowers and landscapes. In the corner, huddled, was an altmer, a dagger held in a shaky hand.

"Aringoth?" Maevyn said, "We need to talk,"

The man stood up, his knees wobbling as he looked at the two, "What do you want?" he asked frantically, his voice rising in hysterics.

"Why haven't you been sending shipments to the Black-Briar Meadery? What have you got to hide? If you don't tell us, we'll kill you and find all the information we need without asking these ridiculous questions," Maevyn said, her voice slightly wavering as she made demands.

"I can't… I can't anymore! It's not in my power!" the elf began to shout, laughing at his own realization. "Guards! GAURDS!"

The sound of thudding boots immedeitly followed, a group of five mercenaries crowding into the room. Maevyn pulled out Bellara, firing a volley of arrows as Brynjolf followed. A spark grew in Maevyn's chest then, a hot rush that spread up her throat and flooded her head. A deep voice weaved through her thoughts, words floating to the surface.

_Yol, yol, yol…_ the voice kept chanting as the fire grew hotter, forcing her tongue to roll off the demanding word. A ring of fire burst from her mouth, rushing down the hallway and hitting the mercenaries and the elf with a force that nocked them back, setting their arrow-pierced and blood spattered bodies to flame as they screamed in agony and terror. As Maevyn watched with horrified eyes, the only thought that could come to her mind was: _please don't catch to the walls, please only leave behind charred wood. _

As the fire burned away and the screaming subsided, all that was left of the men were charbroiled lumps, the smell of burning flesh and scorched wood invading nostrils.

"Oh gods," Maevyn said, a hand covering her mouth as she stumbled into another room, seeking a bucket or a basin, _something _to catch the contents of her stomach that were working its way up her throat. A bucket was in the corner, which Maevyn crawled over to, wretching up the late lunch she and Brynjolf had shared earlier. As she was leaned over the bucket, she felt her hair pull back from her face, a welcome gesture. She also felt a hand rub small circles in her back as she finished, making her feel like a small, pitied child. She finished and turned to find Brynjolf behind her, a hand on her back and a worried expression on his face, causing his brow to crease and his mouth to turn down.

He leaned close to her, "Maevyn, do you need help?"

Tears were streaming down her face as she pulled her knees to her chest, "Brynjolf, that was the most terrible thing I have ever done," she said, her voice cracking as sobs began to rack her body.

"Aye lass. That was a mighty bestial thing you did there. Gruesome too, but it saved our lives. Without that, I doubt we would have come out uninjured."

His slightly consoling words only made her sob harder, covering her face with her hands, ashamed that she was acting like this.

Her hands were pulled away as Brynjolf lightly held her chin in his hand, his thumb brushing away the rivulets of hot tears as he held her gaze with his own, casting his deep blue eyes into her soul, it seemed. She was too upset to notice the massive amounts of fluttering that pushed against her stomach as he did this, only her misfortune on her mind and continued to let the tears fall.

Unsure of what else to do, Brynjolf stood the both of them up and pulled Maevyn close, holding her as she cried into his shoulder.

She looked up in astonishment, her eyes red, making them almost glow in their yellowish way, "why are you doing this?" was all she could simply ask, not being able to think.

"Because," Brynjolf began, "we're _partners. _Lass, we're in this together now. I'll stay by your side for ages to come, through thick and thin, cold and rain, ice and fire. No matter what, I'm here for you. And what's more, I cannot stand to see a beautiful woman cry because of her actions. You're upset and need comfort, so I'll give that to you. Because we're partners. You're more than a partner actually, you're my friend, the only one whom I can trust in a group of thieves. Maevyn, you're more than just a friend…" he trailed off, his hand coming up to her cheek again to wipe away the tears as she stared at him.

The smile that graced Maevyn's face was so genuine and grateful as she hugged Brynjolf tightly, a warmth spreading through her body that drove out the tendrils of abhority and remorse.

* * *

**AuthorsNote: I apologize this chapter took awhile to get out; classes are ending and they've been demanding my attention. I hope this chapter isn't too cheesy in terms of blossoming-love. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and comments and critiques are always welcome. Have a pleasant day!**


	9. Royal Obligations

After Maevyn and Brynjolf returned from Goldenglow, they handed Mercer the paper that was in the safe of the estate: a bill of sale, stating that Aringoth had sold the honey farm to an unidentifiable buyer.

"No wonder he was almost delusional with fear," Maevyn said as the two entered the Bee and Barb, "he knew Maven would seek vengeance for selling her sweet deal out,"

"Yes, yes," Brynjolf said, sitting down at the table in the corner, a slight frown marring his face. "Maevyn, I think we should talk," he started.

Her stomach grew aflutter as she thought of what he had said to her in the manor, about how she was more than a friend to him, how he would stay with her, no matter what. Maevyn then blushed, embarrassed at how she lost herself in the estate after burning those men.

"We should talk about what happened at Goldenglow. Lass, I can tell you're still upset about what you did. I want to help you. That was a… shout, correct?" he asked, recalling the information she had told him when he had inducted her.

"Yes," she began, "I learned it before I came to Riften. That was my first time using it, though. I didn't know it would do _that,"_ she said, the images of unrecognizable men roasted on the ground as their charred, red skin blistered black in some places surfaced to her mind. Clothes were melted into flesh, teeth glowing pearly white against the ugly skin. Maevyn shuddered, the horror ingrained in her brain. "I… I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to harm people in such a bestial way. I'm not a dragon, I'm a woman. Do you understand what I mean?" she asked, head hanging in shame as she stared at the wooden tabletop.

"I see," he said, brow furrowing in thought, "but Maevyn, the Gods bestowed that gift upon you. You shouldn't decline it. I know it was disturbing what you did, but what if you used that power for good?" he paused, thinking about what he had said, and laughed, "well, thieving isn't the most angelic pastime, but what I'm trying to say is that you don't have to use that particular shout. You're the _dragonborn, _lass, and you are destined for great things. Why you want to stay with a bunch of thieves is beyond me," he finished, shifting the conversation to a different topic.

"Brynjolf, the guild is my family now. This is what I love doing and I'm not about to give it up to chase dragons. The guild and everyone in it means too much to me," she said, tracing circles into the wooden grain.

"You mean that, lass?" Brynjolf asked, surprise coloring his tone,

"With every ounce of truth,"

The man smiled at her, ordering two pints of mead for them to share.

What Maevyn really wanted to do was talk to Brynjolf about what he had said in the manor. She wanted to ask him if he meant it, if he really cared about her like he had said. But she was too timid.

"So," she began, wanting to divert her thoughts, "I think I'm going to move out of the cistern,"

"What?" Brynjolf asked, a brief hint of anxiety coloring his tone, "Where will you go?"

"I'm thinking of buying that house there," she said, pointing out the window to the tiny cottage.

"Honeyside? Wouldn't think you would like that," he said, gazing at the garden,

"Well, it would be a place of my own. And I like it; it has a nice garden and direct access to the water. Not too big or anything,"

"Hm, I suppose so. I guess I would just be a bit nervous, not being able to keep an eye on you," he said, glancing at her from under his eyelashes.

Maevyn's stomach was sent into a whole new tizzy as he said that,

"Brynjolf, what you said at Goldenglow… about, well, you know, did you mean it…?" she stammered as the words tumbled ungracefully from her mouth, unsure of how to begin.

"About you being beautiful? Of course I did. Maevyn, you _know _you're something to behold. Your mark is what draws my attention," he said, staring at the scar beneath her left eye.

"Well, um, that's not what I exactly meant, but thank you," she stammered again as her hand automatically lifted to cover the blemish, "What I'm trying to say is, did you really mean that you would stay by my side no matter what?" her face turned red as she looked at Brynjolf fleetingly.

He smiled as he reached over to pull her hand away from the scar, letting his own fingers rest lightly on hers as she placed it on the tabletop, "Yes, I did mean it. Lass, do you not understand that I don't want to do anything else but mentor you? Maevyn, It's just you and me now." He finished, his thick accent making her thoughts swim as she comprehended what he said.

_Does he mean that romantically? Or just in the terms of partners? Bah, Maevyn, don't be so conceited; of course he means in partners. He may think you're beautiful, but that doesn't mean he's in love with you. _

_Then why is he "holding" my hand!?_

Battling with her conscience pushed aside, she savored the warmth of his hand on top of hers, engraining the texture of his rough palm into her memory to save for later thoughts.

Growing even redder, Maevyn slipped her hand from under his and took a long drink of ale, avoiding his curious gaze.

Brynjolf chuckled as he too, leaned back and finished his drink.

"I think you did really well, handling those mercenaries outside of the estate. You're an excellent shot with that bow,"

"Oh, thank you," she said, "I've been shooting since I was nine, with my father. And my mother gave me Bellara, my bow, to me before she left for High Rock. It means more to me than you know," she finished as she laced her fingers together, looking down at her upturned palms.

"That's good lass, that you keep something sentimental like that. Just be sure to take good care of it," he warned, "It is a very nice bow,"

As he finished and gazed into space, Maevyn noticed something different about him. He seemed a bit more reserved than when they entered the tavern, quieter, more thoughtful maybe.

_I wonder why. Is it something I said?_

Maevyn's brow creased with distress as she picked apart every line of dialogue and action she had exchanged with him after they had sat down.

Sighing, Brynjolf got up after finishing his bottle of mead, "Well lass, it is pretty late. What do you say about turning in for the night?"

"I think that's a good idea,"

* * *

As Maevyn lay in bed that night, she still though about her conversation with Brynjolf in the Bee and Barb. One action stood out to her most: she pulled her hand away from his.

_If I'm interpreting this correctly, he was upset because I didn't express my own attraction, maybe? Maybe he thought I didn't like having him touch me. Or like, I didn't respond to his compliments; I did kind of avoid his advancements. Ugh, Maevyn, this could have been your chance!_

Shaking her head, she ran her little finger up and down her scar, wondering how anyone could find it _attractive. _

Sleep overtook her as her thoughts lingered on Brynjolf's words and actions of the day.

* * *

The next day brought Maevyn to Mistveil Keep, the Jarl's residence in Riften.

"In order to purchase Honeyside, I need to be shown that you can be trusted," Lalia Law-Giver said, "I see you have already made a nice impression on the citizens here, but I need something more personal. Talk to my son Harrald about a task. I ask that you take him with you; he needs to see the world for once," the Jarl finished as she gave Maevyn a warm smile.

Harrald Law-Giver was the oldest son of Lalia, and stared at Maevyn appreciatively as she approached him, "Hello, sire. It is my task to accompany you on a quest to clear out a bandit encampment." She said respectfully, not wanting to offend the Jarl's son.

"Ah, yes," he said, looking her up and down as he spoke, "We shall go to Broken Helm Hollow. Those men have been giving my mother quite a bit of trouble,"

"Let us head out, then," Maevyn said,

"Wait," Harrald said, "I don't have my sword. It's at Balimund's. I need to get it,"

"We can stop by on our way out," she said as she eyed his pitiful iron dagger.

* * *

"Hello, Balimund," Maevyn called to the friendly blacksmith as the two approached the Scorched Hammer,

"Ah, Maevyn," the large nord said as he heard her, "what can I do fer ya today?"

"I'm here to pick up the Jarl's sons sword," she said as she gestured to Harrald behind her.

"Yes, I 'ave it here. I'm finishing it up, actually,"

Maevyn stood beside his workbench as he finished hammering the steel blade,

"You know," the man said quietly, leaning next to Maevyn's ear, "that boy has been staring at yer rump the entire time,"

She blushed, "I know. It's killing me that I can't say anything to him. If he wasn't the Jarl's son, I would've given him a nasty shock to the gut by now, but I'm trying to buy a house from Lalia, and I need to stay on the good side at the moment," she whispered to the sooty man.

Balimund and Maevyn had become good friends when she started taking smithing lessons from him the first week she arrived in the city. They quickly bonded over the hot forge and steaming buckets of water, both exchanging stories of their previous lives in the Pine Forest.

Over the past weeks, Maevyn had learned that the blacksmith grew up in Markarth, where he had learned the trade from his father. Unhappy in the stone city, Balimund left and traveled to Riften, where he opened a forge.

She liked Balimund; he was someone who wouldn't judge her; he knew she was in the guild, and didn't treat her like an Ataxia-infested skeever. He would listen to her latest adventures with Brynjolf and offer solemn advice, usually consisting along the lines of, "don't get too carried 'way," or "don't get yerself in too deep,"

"Well," Maevyn said, "thank you for repairing Harrald's sword. I'll come by tomorrow for lessons, okay?"

"Be careful, now," was all he said in his gruff voice.

* * *

Maevyn and Harrald returned to the city as the sun was beginning to set, both tired but victorious from their battle with the bandits.

"I appreciate you came with me," Harrald said, wiping his forehead as the two entered the Keep, "I don't think I could have done it without you,"

"Of course, it was an honor fighting beside the Jarl's son," Maevyn replied, bowing her head,

"You know, you could stay here for the evening meal, get to know each other better," the young man said, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"I would sire, but I have other means of business to attend to. I regret not have the ability to join you in your home," Maevyn said, still playing the façade of faithful servant.

"Very well, maybe another day,"

Maevyn turned from a downcast Harrald and addressed Lalia, who was seated at the head of the table, a goblet in hand, "My Jarl, we have returned from Broken Helm Hollow. All of the bandits are disposed of,"

"Excellent work, Maevyn. I knew I could count on you,"

"Please, my Jarl, It was your son who fought most of the men," Maevyn lied,

"Now that is a joke. Harrald has no real experience fighting, though I do respect the fact you are not pig-headed and did not immediately glorify yourself. You may now purchase Honeyside; welcome to citizenship in Riften, Maevyn," Lalia smiled warmly at the woman, then paused in thought, "you know, I have room in my court for thane. Would you like the position? You have shown yourself respectable and honorable."

"Yes, my Jarl, it would be an honor,"

"Excellent, I grant you position of Thane. I will notify my guards and provide a housecarl. As for your house, talk to Anuriel for the key and furnishings."

Maevyn approached the altmer, "Anuriel? I would like to purchase Honeyside,"

"Certainly," the woman said, "that will be 5,000 septims. Would you like furnishings?"

"Yes please," Maevyn said as she handed her a large pouch of gold, "what is the total of all furnishings?"

"4,300 septims. That includes bedroom, kitchen, alchemy nook, enchanting station, garden, and porch upgrades,"

"Wow, I expected it to cost much more," Maevyn said as she handed over another heavy pouch of gold.

"Thank you. Your house will be ready to move into by morning. I can set you up with a room in the Bee and Barb if you need sleeping arrangements for the night?" the elf said as she gave Maevyn a heavy key and a piece of paper that was the deed.

"Thank you Anuriel, but I have that all worked out,"

"Very well," the stewardess said, "I hope you enjoy your new home,"

* * *

In the cistern, Maevyn and Vipir sat together, talking about their day.

"I didn't do anything for the guild, today," Maevyn said, "but I did kill a bunch of bandits and bought a house,"

"Really?" Vipir said, eyebrows rising, "Honeyside, I take it?"

"Yes, I'm moving into it tomorrow morning,"

"You should like that, Maevyn. It's good that you have a place of your own. Gives you more flexibility and options,"

"I suppose, I won't see you as often though," she said, disappointed she'll lose her friend.

"No you won't, I know I'll be visiting often. After all, you still need practicing on lock picking,"

Maevyn blushed, he was right, "Good, I'm glad you won't leave me in the dust."

"Of course I wouldn't. Maevyn, we're friends," he smiled, "now, let's go train some more,"

* * *

**AuthorsNote: I hope this chapter isn't too boring, as it's a filler. Every story needs one now and again, you know? Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it. As always, comments and criticism are always welcome. Have a pleasant day! **


	10. The Next Task

A wide smile spread across Maevyn's face as she stepped through the threshold of Honeyside for the first time, taking in her new home. The cottage certainly was tiny, with only three real rooms within the home, but Maevyn loved it and couldn't ask for anything more perfect. A small fireplace welcomed her and cast a warm glow around the room, blanketing the miniscule dining room in inviting hues of oranges and yellows. The dining room opened up to the small master bedroom, which contained a prim double bed and a set of doors that led to the back porch. There was also an opening in the floor with a ladder that went down to the basement, leading into a room with an alchemy nook.

Maevyn's face lit up as she saw the full-sized station, with shelves stocked with ingredients that were often hard to come by in her travels: canis root, fire salts, void salts, glow dust, and Wisp wrappings. Branching off from the main basement room were two smaller rooms: one with a large enchanting table and mannequins for holding armor, and the other her housecarl's room, whom she had yet to meet.

The front door opened and a stony, unfamiliar voice called out, "Hello? Thane, are you here?"

Maevyn walked up the ladder and saw a sturdy Nordic woman was standing in front of the hearth, her cold eyes boring into her thane as she popped her head through the open hatch in the floor.

"Hello," Maevyn began, stepping into the room, "I am Maevyn Eldurvari. You must be my housecarl…" she trailed off as she extended a hand, realizing she did not know her name.

"I am Iona," the woman met Maevyn's handshake with a surprisingly firm grasp, "it is a pleasure to serve you, my thane," she finished, a steady tone leveling her icy stare.

"Ah, yes. Please Iona, call me Maevyn. I hope you find my home and myself hospitable when it comes to comfort," a bright smile spread across her face, hoping it hid the uncomfortable tension.

Iona bowed her head and crossed an enclosed fist over her heart, showing respect for her new thane, "As you wish, my thane,"

While she was in the room with her housecarl, Maevyn felt like she had to stand as straight as possible, reciprocating the amount of respect Iona showed her; the last thing she wanted to do was undermine her new protector and make her feel inferior in her new home, where one was supposed to relax. It was also obvious to Maevyn that the woman showed little emotion when it came to anything; she was serious and stoic, always alert as her cold eyes constantly swept the room, looking for any possible danger.

_As my housecarl, _Maevyn thought, _I will need her trust and she will need mine. I wonder how that will work out with me being a thief and all…_

Sooner or later, Maevyn knew, she would have to tell Iona of her occupation and hope that the woman didn't storm out of the house or plunge a dagger through her throat on the spot. She really did want to make a good impression on the woman and be liked, but it was obvious that it would be difficult with the standing factors.

"Well Iona, your room is downstairs. I hope you like it. And if you need _anything, _please, feel free to request," Maevyn said, a cheery smile on her face, hoping it conveyed welcome and warmth to her new roommate.

Iona said nothing as she slipped past Maevyn and went down the ladder. Moments later, she returned, a contempt stare on her face as she went to the dining room and sat in a chair, arms folded tightly over her chest.

"You know," Maevyn began, "I will pay you, and you don't have to stay in the house all of the time. You're free to come and go as you please,"

"That is unnecessary, my thane. I am sworn to protect you and I have no need or time for enjoyment and pleasure," the war-maiden replied in her monotonous voice staring into the dancing fire.

_I'll have to work on that, _Maevyn thought as she began to store her numerous belongings from the cistern into a chest by her bed, also noting that there wasn't much storage.

Escaping the contemptuous gaze of her housecarl and stepping onto the back porch, Maevyn looked at the stretching waters of Lake Honrich before her and was very pleased with her accommodations. The raised porch led down a flight of stairs to a worn path, which Maevyn assumed led to the front gates of Riften. There was also a tanning rack and a small table that graced the rickety porch with charm. _A nice place for a morning breakfast. _

Going back through the cottage and exiting through the front doors, Maevyn went to inspect the garden, which pleased her to find it filled with blooming plants. Some essential potion bases, others were viable cooking options, and some plants just looked pretty. Pushed against the back wall, there was a barrel, which Maevyn found odd. Walking up to it, she saw a small mark scratched into the wooden side: a rhombus with a circle inside. _A cache! Brynjolf never mentioned this one… _she thought as she opened the lid and sifted through the contents, pulling out each item with delight: a score of glass arrows, a large pouch of septims, some gemstones, and an elven dagger.

Very happy with her new home, Maevyn crossed the docks to the small graveyard in the back of Mara's temple, entering a partially opened mausoleum. Looking over both shoulders, she pushed a discreet button on the stone sarcophagus, which opened up to reveal a secret passage way that led directly to the cistern.

"Brynjolf!" Maevyn called as she spotted him across the room, stepping off the old ladder ad into the echoing base.

The man looked up from the desk as he heard her, smiling when she approached him.

"I bought Honeyside," she stated proudly, presenting him a key.

He took it and gave a low whistle as he took the heavy copper, weighing it in his outstretched palm, "Very nice, lass. I think a house-warming party is in order?" he said, a sly smile creeping across his face.

"Oh, I don't know about that…" Maevyn began, taking the key back and placing it into her pocket.

_I certainly would like it if he came over. That would be something to remember._

"C'mon lass, it'll be fun,"

"Maybe in a few days Brynjolf. Right now though, it looks like Mercer wants something," she said, slightly disappointed as she gestured to the icy Breton that was rapidly approaching them.

"Glad you showed up, Maevyn," he said, no tone of welcome or pleasure in his voice, "Maven Black-Briar wants to see both of you. Immediately," he added sternly as he curled his lip at the young woman, and then proceeded to stalk back to his desk where he began to furiously scribble on a slip of parchment.

"Well," Maevyn said, slightly bristled, "I can see he still does not believe me to be a reliable thief,"

"No lass, don't worry; he's always like that. But it wouldn't hurt to be a bit more welcoming," he added as he stared at the guild-master, "I wonder what Maven wants,"

"I don't know, but I think we should head up there now," Maevyn said, worry coloring her tone as possibilities ran through her head, "I thought we did well on Goldenglow, well, besides killing Aringoth, but how could we prevent that? Besides, the guild could easily run the farm, giving Maven an even better deal than before," she rambled as her knees started to slightly shake.

"Maven isn't mad at us. If she was, we would know it by now," he chuckled at her suddenly fearful demeanor, "Lass, it's cute when you're frightened,"

The sudden comment made Maevyn's thoughts flee from the numerous images of Maven Black-Briar slowly killing the two of them off, "Oh, well. Um, thank you, Brynjolf," she stammered as her face grew very red.

Her flushed cheeks made Brynjolf smile appreciatively, amused by his ability to control her embarrassment.

"Well yes. Let's go now," she coughed as she brushed quickly past the red-headed nord, head lowered to hide her face as she did so.

* * *

"I can't believe," began Maevyn after the two exited the Bee and Barb, "that all she wants us to do is get rid of competition. I find it a bit insulting, actually; why does she need thieves to do such an easy task?" she asked, skaing her head from their meeting with the matriarch of Riften.

"Well, Remember that Maven does have a reputation to keep, and doesn't want something this unseemly to go out to the public," he answered, brushing his fiery hair back from his forehead, "I think we should leave for Whiterun tomorrow morning,"

"That sounds good," Maevyn said, looking up at the lowering sun, "I'll meet you in the cistern for dinner in a while, okay? I'd invite you over to Honeyside, but I still need to buy food,"

"That sounds excellent," Brynjolf replied before ambling off toward the cemetery.

Maevyn walked over to Balimund's giving the bellows a few wheezes to announce her arrival, watching as the blazing embers glowed brightly with each puff of air.

"Ah, Maevyn," the smith said, "glad ya could make it over fer a lesson,"

"Of course, Balimund. I need it," she said as she picked up a few iron ingots from the bench and laid them on the edge of the forge.

Between the loud _cracks _of the hammer on the white-hot metal, Maevyn and the smith exchanged words, talking about their week and upcoming events.

"It's almost Asbjorn's twenty-seventh year," Balimund began, looking up hopefully at Maevyn as he hinted at their close ages.

"Oh really? I'll have to get him something nice," Maevyn said, the image of a young nord surfaced to her mind, the adopted son and apprentice of the friendly smith. "How is he doing?"

"He's fine, I s'pose. An excellent smith and such. I just wish he would find someone to be happy with," he said, dropping a less subtle hint at his match-making preference of Maevyn and his son.

"Well, I hear there are some lovely women in Shor's Stone," Maevyn replied, shifting on her feet uncomfortably as she worked over the workbench.

"I s'pose," the man sighed, gazing off into the orange sun that was setting behind the walls of the city.

After a while, Maevyn held out a finely sharpened glass dagger, "How is this?" she asked, eyeing the green blade.

"It's excellent," Balimund said, testing the blade on his thumb, "I have no doubt that ya 'ave talent fer this line of work. You're an easy student to teach," he added, smiling appreciatively.

"Thank you," Maevyn said, happy with his praise and her accomplishment, "thank you for the lessons," she said, laying a heavy pouch of gold on the bench, "I'll come by for Asbjorn's birthday," she added, sheathing the dagger into her belt.

"See ya 'round, Maevyn" he called as she walked toward the cemetery.

* * *

**AuthorsNote: Yet again, another filler. I really apologize that it's slow at the moment, but there needs to be build up! Geeze, I feel really bad about it. **

**On another note: after drafting this, I realized my writing has drastically changed from the first chapter to now. Like before, I felt my writing had a tangible flow, with detail and clarity. And now I see that I have dropped that, so in this chapter, I tried to patch that up. Comments about it, maybe? **

**Next chapter, we'll see Bryn and Maevyn sabotage Honningbrew, along with a drunk house-warming party and confessions! :)**

**Now I know this chapter cut off abruptly, but that's because I'm expecting to get the next chapters out much more frequently, now that classes are over. **

**Thank you for reading and have a pleasant day!**


	11. A Rats Poison and an Empty Flagon

The early morning sun invaded Maevyn's eyes as she and Brynjolf approached the sprawling building of the Honningbrew Meadery, making her squint as she read the sign hanging out front:

_Honningbrew Meadery_

_Home of the Famous Honeyed Mead_

"I've never had Honningbrew before. How is it?" Maevyn asked as they approached the front door, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight as she looked at Brynjolf.

"Some people say it's alright. I don't care for it too much though, too sweet. You know I like my ale dark,"

As he talked, Brynjolf took out his knife and knelt down next to the doorframe, scraping away at the weathered and greying wood as little shavings drifted to the ground in a tiny pile.

"That's a good idea," Maevyn said as she knelt next to him, examining the little symbol he had carved, "That's the one for protection, right?"

"Yes," he answered, sweeping the remains into his palm and pocketing them, "I didn't expect you to remember; last time you saw it was in that book when you first came to the guild," He stepped back, narrowing his eyes at the mark, assessing that it was substantial enough to pass as a gnarled knot in the wood to a passerby.

"You remember what we have to do, right lass?"

* * *

Before the sun shot its rosy streaks across the dusky sky, the two thieves entered Whiterun and went to the Bannered Mare, the local tavern in the city which Maven Black-Briar directed them to. In the empty tavern, it wasn't hard to find the grey-parlored Imperial Mallus Maccius, who was agitatedly chewing on a bread-half in the corner.

"Why are you bothering me?" the dark-haired man growled, glowering at the two nords who stood in front of him.

"Maven Black-Briar sent us. You have a task in store for Sabjorn?" Maevyn said, folding her hands as she sat across the table from Mallus, staring at him intently, trying to give off an air of professionalism.

"Ah," he said, immediately changing his demeanor when he found that the two were the key to the plan him and Maven had been scheming for months, "I apologize for my surly behavior. Never know who is working for who here. I am Mallus, and I work for Sabjorn in the meadery. Now, what I want you two to do is this: go to Honningbrew and offer to help Sabjorn with his Skeever infestation. Do whatever it takes to convince him to let you into the basement, where the nest is. He'll give you the poison, which you will put half of in the nest. After that, go into the boilery and put the rest of the poison in the vat on the left; it's the only vat on that side, so you shouldn't have any trouble finding which one. And make sure it gets done by this afternoon,"

"I see," Brynjolf said, shifting his weight to another foot, "Any particular reason why you're doing this? And why it has to be done by this afternoon?"

"You see, about half of a year ago, I lost a bet to Sabjorn and couldn't pay him, so I offered labor in compensation. He agreed, but has been abusing my offer for far too long, working me to the bone every day. Maven and I have a deal; I'll get to run the meadery when Sabjorn is gone. And as for today, Commander Caius of the Whiterun guard is supposed to be going for a tasting this afternoon. He needs to see that Sabjorn's skeever infestation is violating health code, and will take him away, hopefully, to jail."

"Makes sense," said Maevyn, "And so when Sabjorn is gone, you'll start converting the meadery to Black-Briar, correct?"

"Exactly so," Mallus said with a satisfied grin, "I'm glad you understand. Now hurry, I think you'd find it best to get this job done with as soon as possible,"

* * *

"Welcome to Honningbrew Meadery. Please, don't mind the mess here, I assure you all of my products are sanitary and delectable," a blading nord nasally addressed them as the two entered the shop.

Strewn about the room were decapitated and impaled skeever carcasses, blood spattered across the stone-flagged floor in dried and darkened smears, and an ugly and grotesque odor wafted throughout the room, making Maevyn involuntarily wrinkle her nose.

"Ah yes," Brynjolf said, sweeping his eyes across the gore, making it clear to Sabjorn that he was displeased with the state of the room, "My wife and I were looking to buy some food, but I see you have a slight problem…"

"Oh is that so?" Sabjorn sneered sarcastically, but quickly regretted it, "I apologize sir," he said quickly, watching as his first pair of potential customers of the day back up from his surliness, "I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that I'm very stressed. These damn skeevers have made my life a plane of Oblivion, and today is a very important day for the meadery."

"Why is that?" questioned Maevyn, bending over to examine a skeever carcass.

"The Commander of the guard is coming by this afternoon for a tasting, and if these skeevers show up while he's here, I'll be in a load of shit…"

"This is a problem," Brynjolf agreed, surveying the vermin-filled room.

"Perhaps we can help?" asked Maevyn, trying to look sincere as she batted her eyelashes at the slimy nord, hoping he would take the bait.

A dark cloud passed over Sabjorn's face, casting his features in suspicion as a frown fell upon his lip, "Why do you two _strangers,_ want to help a man you owe nothing to?"

"Well," began Brynjolf a bit quietly, putting on a mask of humbled sorrow, "You see, my wife and I are in need of money. We have children at home, and another on the way," he said, wrapping his arm tightly around Maevyn's waist as he placed a gentle hand on her flat stomach, "Sir, we want to help you and earn a bit of coin for our family,"

Sabjorn seemed to think about the situation that was presented before him, rhythmically wiping the cluttered countertop with a yellowed rag, "You would send your pregnant wife in a disease-riddled hole?"

"I can handle myself," Maevyn put in, straightening her shoulders as she stared squarely at the aging man.

Sabjorn sighed, rolling his eyes, "Very well, here's the key to the basement, and the poison." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, directing the two to the back room.

* * *

"Children, eh?" said Maevyn as she playfully nudged her partner in the ribs with her elbow when they entered the back room, "What are their names?"

Brynjolf smiled, jabbing her back, "Well, Maria is the oldest, and then Orla is the trouble-maker. Then this one here," he said, poking her stomach, "is obviously Brynjolf Jr."

Maevyn laughed, "That was quick thinking you did. I thought I had ruined everything for sure when he hesitated,"

"Oh, it was nothing, I'm sure he didn't buy my story either. I mean, I would never send you down here if you _were _with child," he chuckled, looking at the ingredients that were labeled on the bottle of poison.

Maevyn laughed too, but real images of red-headed children raced through her mind as she thought of the fake life Brynjolf had created for them in sake of getting this job done. She saw herself and the man next to her strolling through Riften, hands entangled together as their three children ran ahead of them,

_"Mama! Look what I found for you!" a young girl with navy eyes and dark hair ran up to her, presenting a handful of blue flowers, "They're blue, just like Papa's favorite color!" She turned to Brynjolf, tugging on his hand and leading them to the market where her two siblings were._

_"Orla," Brynjolf said as he picked his daughter up, who was reaching up to a stall, groping for anything reachable, "You do not touch things that don't belong to you," He then placed the three-year old on his shoulders, looking around for the other two who had scampered away._

_Maevyn smiled at what he had said, thinking it comical for him to say such a thing when he himself was a thief. "Dear, why don't you take Orla, Maria, and Bryn back home while I finish up the shopping,"_

_"Alright, don't take too long, love," he said before swiftly planting a kiss on his wife's cheek, "Don't forget the tomatoes," he added, trying to balance a squealing Orla on his shoulders as Maria and Bryn jumped around his feet-_

"Maevyn? Hellooo," Brynjolf said, waving a hand in front of her face, "Are you okay lass?"

"What?" Maevyn jumped back, startled as she was pulled out of her fantasy, "Oh yes, of course. I apologize, I was just thinking of upcoming jobs," she lied, trying to cover her reddening face as she bent down to 'fix' a buckle on her boot.

Brynjolf smiled and chuckled, seeing right through her lie and attempts to hide, but didn't push the subject, "Aye, I was thinking we could go on a heist this time; those are always my favorite,"

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Now, let's get down to the basement," she said hurriedly, taking out the key and inserted it into the door that led to the basement.

* * *

Brynjolf and Maevyn stepped into the main room just as Sabjorn was leading Commander Caius to a mead barrel on the counter, smiling coyly as he told him about the new product, "…It's my new brew. I like to call it Honningbrew Reserve,"

Mallus Maccius joined the two, watching with delight as Caius filled his goblet with the mixture of poison and mead, indifferent to the slight green tint that floated in the amber liquid like dye.

"Sounds promising, Sabjorn. Maybe I'll order a few kegs for the Jarl," he trailed off, bringing his lips to the blue goblet.

After the poison-laced liquid passed his lips, Caius sputtered, spitting the vile liquid onto the floor, "SABJORN!" he roared, face growing red with rage, "I thought you said this place was no longer infested, and instead I get a mouthful of this shit! What, did you let those damn vermin piss in this?!" he grabbed the man by the forearm, dragging him towards the front door, "I'm closing your business, and you're going to rot in jail for health code violations,"

"What?" Sabjorn stammered, bringing his own liquid-filled goblet to his face as he stared at the contents, "This… this isn't my mead! I don't know…" he trailed off, trying to connect something in his beady mind.

"Let's go, Sabjorn," Commander Caius growled, pulling out his sword as he prodded the man. "You," he gestured to Mallus, "You're second-in-command here, right? You're in charge now," he said, towing a protesting and struggling Sabjorn through the front door.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Mallus's face split into the widest grin, "That went flawlessly. And you put the poison in the nest?"

"Yes, but I wish you had mentioned that man down there," Maevyn said a bit disgruntled, "He gave us a spot of trouble,"

"Well, didn't want you two walking out on the job. It was a necessary precaution, and everything turned out fine,"

"Yeah, fine…" Maevyn trailed off as she fingered a brittle, shortened section of her hair that had burnt off when a fireball brushed past her, "Anyway, what will you do now?"

"Well, I'll start converting it over to Maven. Turn this place into another Black-Briar Meadery. By the way, here's your payment," he said, sliding a large bag of coin down the counter towards Brynjolf, "I suppose I'll be in the area for a while, so if you need to sell some… questionably-attained items, I'll fence for you. Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked, clearing away the bottles of Honningbrew mead from the counter.

"Actually, you can," began Brynjolf, "We know Sabjorn had a private partner, and Maven wants to know who it is, so if you could direct us to where he kept his documents, everything will be in order,"

"Of course," Mallus said, "Maven always wants to know everyone's business. He keeps papers in his room upstairs. Here's the key. Feel free to take whatever you want."

* * *

Back in the cistern, Maevyn, Brynjolf, and Mercer hunched over the desk, looking over the promissory note the two had found in Sabjorn's dresser.

"This doesn't make any sense," groaned Mercer in frustration, "It doesn't lead us anywhere! There's only Sabjorn's name and someone named Gajul-Lei. And then this damn symbol!" The Breton slammed his fist down on the desk, expressing his anger at his inability to solve the mystery of the unidentifiable persons.

"It's the same symbol as the one on the Goldenglow bill of sale," Maevyn said quietly, hoping to calm the furious guild master and prevent him from having an aneurism.

"The lass is right," Brynjolf said, rummaging through the desk for the slip of parchment, "see?" he said, pointing to the marks as he found it.

"Very quick, Maevyn. This is more than a coincidence. We're playing a dangerous game now… Contacts, I need contacts… " he said absently as he dismissed them, rifling through sheafs of parchment as they left.

"Bryn, this isn't good," Maevyn said, biting her lip as her brow creased, "This man or woman is obviously trying to tear apart the guild by getting Maven Black-Briar to doubt us."

"I know, lass, I know. But there's nothing we can do about it now. Mercer is doing everything he can at the moment. All we can do is wait," he said, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

Maevyn sighed, looking down at her muddied leather boots, "you're right. Well what do you want to do now?"

"I was thinking we could have that house-warming party now," he said, smiling as he waggled his thick brows.

* * *

"Well," Maevyn said as she led Brynjolf and Vipir through the front door of Honeyside, "this is my home. And this is Iona, my housecarl," she said, gesturing to the sullen woman who stared icily at the two men.

Maevyn immediately saw that Vipir had taken an interest in Iona, watching him watch her as she stoically got up from her chair and stalked down the ladder to the basement, "Good luck with that, Vip, she's as icy as Winterhold," she mumbled to her friend, watching as his face grew red from embarrassment,

"Aw, you're adorable when you blush," she laughed, imitating the words he had often said to her when she grew the same way, making him join along in laughter. "Let's go outside," she said, shuffling along through the crowded room.

Maevyn was thankful to see that the evening sun was casting a warming orange glow across the lake, making the back porch inviting and relaxing.

"Wow lass," Brynjolf sighed appreciatively as he stared across the golden water, "this view is very nice,"

"Oh I know. It's one of my favorite aspects of Honeyside," she called over her shoulder as she dragged two chairs from the dining room through the door, "I love sitting out here in the evening."

"You two are going to talk about scenery when I brought _this?_" Vipir joked as he produced a dark blue bottle of Black-Briar Reserve from his bag, "Maevyn, you got some tankards?"

"Yes, hold on a moment," she laughed as she stepped inside. Going to the cupboard across the room, she paused, and then went back to the threshold to the basement, "Iona?" she called down, "do you want to join us? Meet my friends and have some drinks?"

"No thank you, my thane. I'd rather be down here," she called back up, her voice echoing off the stone walls of the underground room.

Maevyn sighed, feeling guilty that her roommate was uncomfortable with her best friends. _Maybe she'll come up later… _she thought, but soon forgot when Brynjolf called her to come back out, sending her stomach into an excited tizzy.

* * *

Throughout the night, the three thieves laughed and drank jovially, finishing the contents of the potent liquor. True, it was Vipir who had drank most of the bottle, but Brynjolf and Maevyn were still a bit disoriented after drinking a flagon or two of the Reserve, preferring the standard Black-Briar Mead. Vipir on the other hand, was completely out, slurring every sentence that tumbled out of his mouth.

Maevyn had to marvel at his ability to contain the contents of his stomach, ticking off the number of tankards he had on her hand, _one, two… three, four, five, six… By the Nine, he's had seven tankards of Reserve, _she thought in astonishment.

"Mayfen," Vipir said drunkenly, wrapping his arms around the young woman, "we should do thish erry night. It would be tonsh of fun!"

"Alright, Vip," Brynjolf said, chuckling as he removed a giggling Vipir from around Maevyn's neck, "I think it's about time you get home,"

"Okay, Bryn. Bye Mayfen. Thanksh for the drinksh," he slurred, trying to plant a wet kiss on her cheek, but was quickly intercepted by the red-head, who pulled him through the doorway as Maevyn laughed and followed.

"I hope he doesn't fall in the canal," Maevyn chuckled as the two stood by the front door, watching as their friend stumbled against the side of buildings.

"It'd certainly wake him up. Gods, I can't believe he drank that much," Brynjolf said, shaking his head in amusement.

The remaining two went back to the porch and settled in the chairs, gazing up at the inky sky above them. The silence that fell over them was not uncomfortable, but Maevyn was glad she was alone with Brynjolf now, aware that the butterflies in her stomach were now madly fluttering.

"Brynjolf," she began, a bit shy, "what are you thinking of?"

"I was thinking how perfect it is, here on the lake with the stars, especially with you," he added, turning in his chair to gaze at her.

Maevyn's face grew a ridiculous shade of red as he said this, staring down at her hands as she nervously chuckled.

"Brynjolf, what is this? What is this… thing that's going on between us? Do you like me? Or is it false? You keep me up at night, thinking what could be and what isn't. I want to know how you feel… What you said at Goldenglow, about never leaving and always sticking by my side, I don't want to think of it in a partnership way; I want to think of it romantically… It's confusing, because I don't want to think of you that way because you're my mentor, but then again, I _do _want to think of you that way because I'm developing a strong attraction towards you," she finished quickly, fearing her questions and confessions scared him. Her hand immediately went to her scar, slowly tracing it as an excuse to hide her blushing face.

"Maevyn," Brynjolf began, leaning forward and removing her hands, just like he did the other time. He held them tightly within his own, the warmth driving out the chill that had settled across the waters, "Maevyn, in truth, you drive me crazy. Everything about you does. Your attitude, your skills, how you act, your beauty…" he said as he brought a hand up to cup her face, "I'm crazy for you Maevyn, and I absolutely meant it when I said I would not leave you. I want to be with you for a very long time. But if you feel put off by this… then I apologize-"

The actions that overcame Maevyn then were instinctual, because she leaned forward, closing the gap between their faces, lightly bringing her lips to his, cutting him off as he tried to continue. The kiss was light, the flutter of a flickering candle as it was blown out. She wrapped her hands tightly around his own, pulling back to gaze questioningly in his soulful eyes.

She was met with a wild smile, "You, Maevyn, are truly an amazing thief, stealing ideas from my _head_ like that," he said, chuckling as he stood up, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, kissing her fully and tightly this time, crushing his lips against hers.

A soft sigh escaped Maevyn's lips, sweeping over Brynjolf's face as he pulled back, "You know lass, ever since our first job, I wanted to do that,"

"Oh really now?" she said quietly, snaking her hand up to his face to run her fingers over the orange stubble on his jaw.

"Absolutely," he finished, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Bryn, I think it's time for you to go home too," she said, lifting her head to look at the rising moons.

"Very true, very true, let's go." he said, a sly smile spreading across his face.

As the two walked past the large bed pushed up against the wall, Brynjolf hooked his arm around Maevyn's waist and flopped back onto the bed, bringing her down with him as he theatrically yawned, "Wow lass, I'm really tired. Don't think I can make it to the door,"

"Brynjolf!" Maevyn laughed, struggling to get up as he pinned her with his muscular arm, "Bryn, come on. Fine," she said, trying to lace her voice with pout, "at least take your boots off if you're going to sleep,"

* * *

**AuthorsNote: And here's the anticipated lovey-dovey scene with Bryn! **

**I know I said updates would be frequent, but inspiration for these scenes were tough. It is kind of long, which I apologize for, but at least it isn't a filler. **

**Thoughts? Opinions? What do you guys want to happen between Bryn and Maevyn? **

**On another note, I reached 1,000 views! Which is my first mile-stone (even if they are only views). My next goal is to get to at least 20 subscribers by the beginning of August:) That probably won't happen, but a girl can dream though, right?**

**Next chapter will bring a more serious talk with Bryn and Maev, along with some thoughts from Vipir:)**

**As always, comments and suggestions are always appreciated. I hope you have a wonderful day!**


	12. Potions and Promises

The soft, early morning sun filtered through Maevyn's window and fell upon her brow, causing her to smile blissfully as she watched the small, individual dust motes twirl through the air in a discombobulated ballet. She sighed contentedly as her attention was drawn away from the floating specks to the red-headed man that was snoring lightly next to her, only a thin pair of shorts to define his decency under the light blanket. She herself was only in her undergarments, and was very happy to have it that way, with this man in her bed next to her.

Maevyn marveled at the perfect nord beside her; his tan, sculpted chest softly moving with slumbered breaths, the smattering of curly red fluff that spread lightly across his pectorals, the muscled biceps that curled around her waist in protection. Even the small snores that emanated from his slightly-open mouth were perfect. Images from the night before flooded her mind as she smiled at the man:

_The sets of buckle-laced boots fell to the floor with loud clunks, and a pair of strong, warm arms encircled her waist, drawing her ever so close as he smiled brightly and brought his lips to hers in the shadow-filled room. This kiss though, was laced with desire and lust as he bit her lower lip, outlining the soft curve with the tip of his tongue. She was surprised at his ventures, but was not at all displeased with what he was doing; she wound her hands up to his face, slightly caressing it before moving them to entangle in his hair, letting another sigh escape as she threw a slightly quivering thigh over his hip. _

_"Wait," she said in a rush of air, pushing herself away from him and standing up, stretching her back as she did so._

_"What's wrong? Do you not want this right now?"_

_"Oh no, it's not like that. It's just… hot in here, I suppose," she said, offering a sly smile that was lit up by slivers of moonlight as she fumbled with the buckles of her browned leather chest piece. Even her slender, quick fingers that could pick the most complicated of locks had trouble undoing the laces and buckles that graced her armor because she was quaking in anticipation and lust._

_A relieved smile spread across his face and a soft chuckle appeared, his chest already beautifully bare and exposed as he pulled her over and loosened the fastenings himself. So slowly, he eased the dusty leather over her head, teasing her with his pace as he saw how she trembled. _

_"Stop that," she mumbled as she removed his hands and pulled the piece off herself, tossing it in the corner with embarrassing eagerness. He let out another soft chuckle as he pulled her onto him, the warmth of his chest delightful as it spread across her upper body, making the fingers that had travelled back to his face quiver faster. Her legs wrapped around his torso with difficulty, the leather pants restraining flexibility and movement, and they too we soon thrown off onto the floor in disheveled piles. _

"Lass, I'm surprised you don't have breakfast waiting for me," Brynjolf said softly, his voice laced with sleep and humor as he pulled her tighter against his warm chest.

"Well it's hard to leave the bed when you're still stricken from the night before,"

"Aye, that is true," he sighed as he gave her a soft kiss before rolling out of the bed, "By the Nine Maevyn, you sure know how to strain a man's back," he groaned as he stood up, placing both hands on his lumbar and stretched.

"I didn't come out unscathed either, you know. My thighs are killing me. And my neck too." The looking glass on the wall provided viewing of the tiny red marks that marred Maevyn's jawline, her neck and chest. She laughed as Brynjolf also saw them and blushed, his face turning as red as his hair.

"Oh don't worry Bryn, this isn't a problem," she laughed as an orange glow flowed from her palm. The red marks immediately disappeared and were replaced by the pale pigment; no trace of sensual nipping and biting from the night before remained.

Maevyn then walked over to Brynjolf, turning him so she could see his back. It was her turn to blush now: long red welts marked his back, a set of four in multiple places. Maevyn put her own hand to the marks, her index through pinkie fingers matching perfectly with the glaring scratches. She chuckled as her marks vanished, wondering why she had done what she had the night before.

_Because you want him. Because you love him. Because you have craved him since day one._

"No wonder I didn't see any scars from previous lovers. That's a handy trick you know there," Brynjolf said as he turned around, gesturing to her glowing hand and pale skin.

She turned very red, avoiding his navy eyes as she stammered out her explanation, "That's not it at all; I don't have any marks because I've never had relations with anyone before," she finished as she looked at the floor, hoping he wouldn't laugh at her inexperience.

"Really now? Surely you're toying with me; I can hardly see how that's possible."

"No, I'm being very serious. I've never had the opportunity before. No one had taken in interest, or I wasn't ready,"

Brynjolf stared at her, wondering how any man could refuse a body like Maevyn's; one that was slim and quick, her curved waist and slightly muscled stomach, her dark hair and mysterious eyes.

"Well," Maevyn cut in, "I'll fix some potions for the aches. Grab some breakfast if you're hungry,"

Descending the steps to the basement, Maevyn saw Iona's closed door and groaned; she had completely forgotten her housecarl was below them, no doubt enduring the sounds that had emanated from the two throughout the night. _Gods, it's going to be even more awkward with her now._

The task of brewing up two potions for muscle pain was not hard: all Maevyn had to do was combine a mixture for health and restore stamina together. She had learned the trick from her mother, who had taught Maevyn all she knew about brewing and herbalism when she was a young girl. Grinding all of the ingredients, measuring out the perfect amount of dust or powder, watching the mixtures change colors as they blended together, it all thrilled Maevyn. Following the specific order and steps fascinated her, made her appreciate the attention to detail she always paid. And then seeing her finished product all trim in a corked and color-coordinated bottle filled her with pride at the ability to create something useful.

Reaching over for a jar of frost salts, Maevyn saw she was very low, _I'll go to Elgrim's after breakfast, _she thought as she dumped the final contents into the flask, stirring everything together and smiling.

* * *

Empty platters and bowls sat in front of Maevyn and Brynjolf after they finished their breakfast, the two sighing contently and smiling at each other.

"Brynjolf, what does this mean? For the two of us now?" she asked softly after setting her cup of juniper tea on the table with a slight clatter.

He smiled and leaned back in his chair, "Well lass, it could mean whatever you want it to be. We can keep this strictly physical with no feelings, or we can continue and pretend like last night never happened. But I do not care at all for those options. What I want is a steady relationship Maevyn."

"You do?"

"Certainly. I've been with plenty of other women, but I never felt something like this with any of them."

"Well I'm glad to hear that. I also want a firm relationship; I would like that very much," she said, smiling into her empty cup. "What about in public? Do we make it known? I'd rather keep it on the down-low for now, actually."

"If you insist. But why, I ask,"

"I don't want to be stared at while walking through the cistern because I slept with the boss."

"Ha, that is a good point, lass."

"I just don't want it to be so sudden. Ease into it, it think,"

"Also a good idea. Now," he said as he got up, "I think I better get down to Delvin; he said he had another important job he wants us on,"

"Alright, I have to go to Elgrim's, then I'll be down there," she lifted her face to receive the light kiss Brynjolf offered, letting a content smile spread across her face as he turned to the front door.

"Gods damn," Maevyn sighed as the door shut behind him. _Did I really sleep with the second-in-command last night? The man who I've dreamt about since I met him? Was all of it a dream? No, he left his satchel here. Oh my Gods, I can't believe it. What will this bring in the future? _The three children from the day before ran back to her memory, their tiny faces a delightful possibility now. _Don't be ridiculous, Maevyn; don't create fantasies because you had sex with him. You really think you'll get married now that it happened? Dream on. Be content with this confusing relationship you have with him now. _

It _was_ slightly confusing to Maevyn; it was all very sudden what Brynjolf had said. She never noticed previous attractions from him, no alerts or clues that he liked her. He acted almost like an older brother to her, protecting her and being there for her when something was bothering her. Shaking her head, she sighed, but smiled at how well things actually were.

Iona walked up the stairs then, "How are you my thane?" she asked as she eyed the disheveled bedspread,

Maevyn blushed, knowing full well that under Iona's icy tone was a layer of dark humor, taunting her with the housecarl's knowledge of last night.

"Um, I'm fine, thank you Iona. How about yourself? Breakfast?" she asked as she cleared away Brynjolf's dishes hurriedly.

"I'll have something later," she sat down in the spot Brynjolf occupied moments before, folding her hands as she watched Maevyn put out a new set of clean dishware. As Maevyn glanced at her, she immediately raised an eyebrow, expecting to hear about the mystery man from last night.

"Fine, if you must know. He's my… partner and my best friend, and his name is Brynjolf. Do not worry, he's a good man," Maevyn said, hoping Iona did not further riddle her with questions.

"I see. I have to ask, my thane; it is my duty to protect you. I am responsible for whatever happens to you."

"Iona, please relax. You owe me nothing, I want you to have a life that doesn't only involve protecting me. Go out, meet a guy, enjoy yourself. And since you're living in my house, I want to be friends, equals, okay? I feel very uncomfortable when you always call me 'my thane'; address me as Maevyn."

"Very well… Maevyn," Iona said, the name alien as it rolled off her tongue. She caught a small pouch of gold as Maevyn tossed it at her, "What's this?"

"Your weekly pay. I told you I was doing it."

"Please, I don't require this,"

"Iona, you will if you want to have a life. Now, when I come home this evening, I'd like to talk, okay? About you and about me; get to know each other. Is that alright?"

"Of course my th- I mean Maevyn," she said, a slight surprised look passing her face as Maevyn breezed past her out the front door.

* * *

"Hello? Elgrim? Ingun?," Maevyn called as she entered the damp alchemy shop beneath the docks, breathing in the heady and powerful scent of dried herbs and elaborate tinctures as she walked up to the counter.

"Why hello dear," an elderly woman said as she came around the corner, "My husband isn't here at the moment. What can I do for you?"

"Hello. Same as every time Hafjorg: to purchase ingredients," she said, smiling at the grandmotherly woman in warm greeting.

"Of course, I should know that by now. You practically stop by every day for something new. What is it you need?"

"I was looking for frost salts. I'm completely out, and I know I'll need some soon," Maevyn said as she picked up a stem of dragon's tongue from the counter, twirling it between her fingers and sniffing the delicate petals.

"Ah yes, here you go," Hafjorg said as she grabbed five bowls from the shelf, "Is this enough?"

""Yes, thank you," she watched as the woman poured the contents from the bowls into a small glass jar, sealing with a cork and some wax, setting it on the counter. "136 each, right?"

"Yes dear, but take a jar out of there; you deserve a discount. I daresay that you know inventory and prices as well as Elgrim or I. I wish that old mudcrab would drop that ditz of a girl and take you on as an apprentice. I bet you could teach him a few new mixtures, actually,"

Maevyn counted out 544 septims as she talked, "Oh no, I'm sure Elgrim is much more experienced in alchemy than I. And Ingun isn't that bad, she's very sweet,"

"She uses up all of our rare ingredients! It's maddening how she's so willy-nilly with her useless experiments. I swear she will force us into bankruptcy with her demands. And Maevyn, don't be so modest; I've seen some of the potions you've made, and they're extraordinary. Give yourself credit, dear,"

Maevyn blushed as she received the compliments, glad that the dark room hid her face. "If you're having trouble getting ingredients, I could get some for you; I'm always traveling and often come across different flowers and herbs. Just tell me what to get, and I'll give it to you or Elgrim next time I'm in Riften." She offered, wanting to help the old couple in any way in repayment for their kindness and generosity.

"That would be splendid, dear. Of course, we'd pay you accordingly for what you bring, I'm sure Elgrim will be thrilled to hear this,"

Maevyn smiled and put the jar in her satchel, watching as the old woman reorganized bottles and baskets on the shelves. Elgrim and his wife were like grandparents to Maevyn; they were always praising her work, gave her discounts on ingredients, and welcomed her with open arms every time she entered the shop. The alchemy shop was one of the few places she found true solace in, being surrounded by the most intricate potions and poisons in The Rift, having access to the finest ingredients just outside her doorstep.

"Well Hafjorg, I better be going; have important business to take care of. I'll come by later to talk to Elgrim about a new potion I'm working on, okay?"

"Alright, goodbye dear,"

As Maevyn exited the small shop, Hafjorg sat down and shook her head, wondering how a young woman like Maevyn could be so extremely skilled in alchemy. As she husband and her were finishing their twilight years, she hoped someone capable and trustworthy would take over their establishment, someone who would keep it an alchemy shop; and Maevyn was the first person to come to mind when she thought of it.

"One day," she said as she placed a sprig of nightshade into a vase.

* * *

**AuthorsNote: I suck. I'm going through a terrible bout of writer's block, and I hate it. Plus this chapter is not much at all. Jeeze, I'm a mess right now.**

**Even though it's a filler, I hope you like it! Did I do an okay job with Maev and Bryn? Are her feelings too smushy or stereotypical? **

**Gonna do something new: What do YOU guys want in the next chapter? I'll give until Tuesday (6/25) for final decisions. **

**As I said, a mess; but I hope you enjoy this chapter! Have a splendid day!**


	13. The Jealousy of Others

The rising sun cast a golden glow around the small cemetery plot, illuminating the dreary headstones and various patches of deadly nightshade that occupied the space behind Mara's temple. Brynjolf paced before the small mausoleum, wondering at the drastic turn his life had just taken. Heart slightly pounding, fingers disquiet, images from the night before plagued his mind: the silky black hair that draped across his chest, her fluttering heart pounding wildly against his own in excitement, the fire he saw in her mysterious eyes as he whispered into the inky night.

He sighed contently as he thought of the situation. _Maevyn Eldurvari… Once again, she has surprised me; caught me off guard. Always thought she would turn away in her shy manor and politely refuse. It's a wonder she'd feel that way about me. Gods, I can't believe it. My luck was incredible, I suppose. Gods… She is truly amazing._

Brynjolf's thoughts were abruptly cut off as a guard ambled by, "Hey you. What're you doing here? No lollygagging!" the helmeted man said as his voice picked up in excitement at the prospect of having an actual arrest in this dull city.

"Yes sir, just paying my respects," Brynjolf said smoothly as the guard stepped closer, "I'll be going now,"

"Good," the guard said as he placed his hands on his hips, satisfied at the thought that the man in front of him felt somewhat threatened by his approach, "Now abide by the law, citizen,"

* * *

"So Brynjolf, where were you last night?" Vex called from her perch atop the crates, her hard voice laced with suspicion and loath as he entered the Flagon through the Ratway.

Brynjolf sighed as he sat in a chair across from Delvin, a slight smile creeping into his tone as he wove a lie, "I was earning some gold, Vex. What else would I be doing?"

"With that apprentice of yours?" the jealousy was intensely oozing from her voice now, the way the woman crossed her arms and sneered _apprentice _cutting any façade of indifference away from her questions.

"Yes, I was. There had better not be a problem with that, either," Brynjolf said stonily, his patience quickly dissipating as he saw her eyes narrowed in disapproval, mouth poised eagerly as clouds of cynical opinions bubbled in her head.

"Actually Brynjolf, I do have a problem with your little pet," she sneered as she crossed the Flagon to lean closer to his face, "That whore is manipulating you! Don't you see she's pulling you away from us, from the guild? She's using you to get closer to Mercer, I bet. I can guarantee you she's with him every single night, worming her way into his pant- Arrgh!"

Vex's head was yanked back as Tonilia stood behind her, a copious amount of buttery hair enclosed around her fist and a murderous glare marring her face. The Imperial's back was arched away from the ground, trying to slack the pain as Tonilia pulled harder on the fistful of hair, her tone sweet and sympathetic despite the words that followed, "Vex honey, I don't think you understand what you're saying. Maevyn is the best thing that's happened to the guild since Gallus died, and nothing but a joy to have around. She and Brynjolf have brought in more coin this month than you have in a year, and I think it's appropriate to say you're worthless compared to her. And if anything, she's made Brynjolf more involved with his work. He's happy to be partnered with Maevyn; they're the perfect duo. Now stop creating those silly little lies and fantasies in your head and let them do their job of actual _thieving _in peace, while you sit here and do yours. And you had better hope Mercer doesn't hear about these slanderous lies that you're involving him in; I'd imagine that would turn out very poorly for you." The Redguard released her hold, gave a final glare, and stalked back to her table on the floating dock.

Vex rubbed her tender scalp, glaring at the shadows in which Tonilia was shrouded in with surprise and newfound hatred. She then turned to Brynjolf who had a vicious snarl on his face, glared at him, and stomped out of the Ragged Flagon, "You all can rot in the Void!" she shouted before slamming the door forcefully. Her exit reminded Brynjolf of a spoiled teenager that didn't get its way.

The toiling anger that was built up inside of him quickly subsided after Vex had left, leaving him with only his thoughts of what had just happened to bounce around his head. _That bitch. Who does she think she is? Everything Tonilia said was true; I just wish I had said something too… I'll definitely have to speak to Mercer about Vex and some kind of probation or punishment for this outburst and slander. Damn Vex. Good thing Maevyn wasn't here; she would certainly be in tears by now. _Even though Maevyn didn't speak her thoughts often, Brynjolf could still see how flustered and upset she got in intense situations, especially when they were directed at her.

Delvin gave a low whistle, chuckling as the door to the tavern slammed and echoed across the murky water, "Well, that was a mighty good show. Have to say it was coming to her,"

"Indeed it was" Vekel said, smiling as he wiped down the countertop, "Tonilia, you really put her out for good this time,"

"Well she deserved it. She always sits on her ass in here, boasting that no one can match her skill; well Maevyn does, exceeds it actually, and Vex knows it. I reckon that's why she hates her as she does." Tonilia called from her table, a coin poised in hand as she paused counting a small pile of septims to talk.

"Aye, I agree with everything Tonilia," Brynjolf said quietly, still dwelling on his thoughts, "I very much appreciate what you did, and I'm positive Maevyn would too. Thank you," he added, hoping Tonilia didn't think it was necessary to defend Maevyn since she was partnered with the second-in-command.

"Don't mention it; I love Maevyn and would not hear anymore of Vex's talk. Damn it all; five years ago since she joined, Vex has been a growing thorn in my side. It was a pleasure to do it."

Vekel and Delvin chuckled at the woman's rant, amused at her true opinions of the sour Imperial who had been with the guild for quite a while.

"Delvin, I honestly don't see what you like about her. She's crazy and evil!" the Redguard continued, standing up to walk over to his table, "Why you would want to bed that shrew is beyond me."

Delvin's balding head grew as red as the slice of horker in front of him as Tonilia finished, embarrassed that she knew about his late night scouting session from last week when he tried to spy on Vex while she was bathing in the lake. "What can I say poppet, I'm a pushover when it comes to sassy and cruel." He said, a slick grin on his lips as he evaded the embarrassment Tonilia was forcing upon him.

As the two thieves continued their conversation, Brynjolf chuckled and shook his head at his comrades playful bickering, glad that the dense air was lifting as laughs echoed throughout the cavern.

A soft thud immediately followed by a clinking sound emanated in front of him as his attention was pulled to the tabletop in front of him. "I believe you left this at my house," a soft voice whispered behind him, making Brynjolf jump in surprise before he whirled around.

Maevyn was crouched behind him, her yellow eyes flickering in the torchlight as she smiled in amusement. His small satchel was on the table, the contents clunking around inside as it was tossed there. "You oughtn't leave your things lying around," she scolded playfully, "someone might steal them,"

Brynjolf laughed in relief as she sat across from him with a bottle of Black-Briar already in hand. "Gods damn Maevyn, you're getting too good at this kind of stuff," he chuckled, impressed that she could even sneak up on _him._

The raven-haired thief just leaned back in her chair and smiled slyly at him, increasing his urge to grab her face in his hands and kiss her in front of the guild. As the rest of the thieves in the Flagon saw that Maevyn had mysteriously arrived, they lowered their voices and shot side-glances at her, wondering if they should bring up the mornings feud.

"Where's Vex?" she asked as she looked around the cavern, "She's usually always here, and I have something I want to show her," a small gem appeared from her pocket, encased in an odd gold box. The unusual stone mysteriously glowed on its red velvet perch, surrounding it in a dull pink light, "have you ever seen anything like it? I found it in the Jarl's quarters, and thought it might be worth something. But I'm curious to find out what it is, first."

The members in the Flagon all bit their lips as they wondered what to tell the clueless thief. Tonilia and Delvin both looked at Brynjolf pointedly, silently agreeing he had to come up with something. "Here lass," he began uneasily, "let me take that for now to give to Vex later. I'll explain when we're alone," he finished quietly as Maevyn gave him a confused look and slid the box across the table.

"Well, alright," she said, the deep divot still creasing her brow. "On my way here, Mercer wanted me to get you so we could speak to him. But I want to buy some arrows before we do that,"

Brynjolf nodded as she got up and started to walk to the small alcove on the opposite side of the Flagon where merchants were starting to set up in response to the guilds increasing notoriety. His eyes followed her as she walked across planks that created a small bridge across the sewer water and was stopped by Dirge, who was in his usual spot at the entrance. Brynjolf strained his ears to pick up the low, rough voice of the intimidating Imperial as he spoke to Maevyn.

"…hear you bought Honeyside. How is it?"

"It's very nice; has plenty of room for myself, and there's a wonderful view of the lake off of my back porch. I'm glad I bought it," as Maevyn answered, her eyes darted around the room nervously. _I wonder what has her so worked up._

"Ah, I see," Dirge said as he crossed his arms, "When the Black-Briars owned that place, Maven had Maul live there to upkeep its state. He said it had plenty of room for two…" as he said this, he inched closer to Maevyn so the tips of his leather boots touched hers. "What do you say, how about I keep you company in that lonely house of yours at night?"

_Gods be damned. _A dark cloud passed over Brynjolf's face as he heard Dirge's words, and stood up from his table to end the advances he was making towards Maevyn. He kept his eyes steady on her as she quickly moved away from the opposing Imperial, but was cornered by the railing of the dock as he moved closer to her.

"Ah, I don't think that's the best idea. Um, I have rats there; huge, menacing rats that'll most likely chew your toes off. I have to say I'm lucky to come out of there alive every day." She stammered as she tried to evade his advances.

"Cut the shit Maevyn. C'mon, I wanna know how it feels to bed the dragonborn, I'd give you the best night of your life if you'd let me-"

"Dirge, the lass said 'no'," Brynjolf said darkly as he appeared next to Maevyn, "I expect you to respect her response," he crossed his arms and looked the guardsman in the eye as he spoke, casting his authority across the silent Flagon as his voice echoed.

The buffed Imperial narrowed his eyes at Brynjolf, miffed that he was getting cock-blocked by the boss. "Lighten up, there's no harm in trying to get some action from this luscious fox," he said as he cast his gaze upon Maevyn and reached out to stroke her arm.

Brynjolf immediately intercepted the contact a pushed his hand away, "One more move Dirge, and you're thrown out on your ass. Leave. The lass. Alone. Is that clear?" A murderous snarl marred his face once more as it had with Vex, vicious thoughts clouding his mind as he protected Maevyn.

Maevyn and Dirge were both taken aback by Brynjolf's unexpected ferocity. The guardsman crossed his arms, a nasty smile spreading across his face, "Well, well; it looks like our boss has taken a liking to the newcomer!" he said as his raised voice projected across the room, "Am I right Brynjolf? Have you gone to showing favorites among your apprentices? I bet you've already stolen your way in between her legs and hitched this fox around your waist." He then turned to Maevyn, "It must be nice to get all cozy with the boss and securing your spot within the guild. Is that the only reason why you're still around? I bet it is." He finished with a smug and satisfied smile on his face, glad to see the reactions before him.

Brynjolf's vision was colored red as Dirge continued to spew his vile words. Within the next moment, the Imperial was thrown over the railing and into the murky water from Brynjolf's punch, landing hard on his ass as the sewage splashed up around him and drenched his leather armor. "Didn't I say to leave her alone Dirge? It seems you didn't learn from Vex's actions. Now get out of here; I don't want to see your rotted ass in here for a while." Brynjolf said evenly, crossing his arms as the water-logged man stared incredulously at him.

He then turned to Maevyn and saw that she wore no expression on her face; it was a blank slate, an unreadable canvas. "C'mon lass, let's go," he softly said as he led her away from the Flagon and into the cistern. Before he went through the cupboard, he turned and saw that Tonilia, Delvin, and Vekel both had nervous looks on their faces as they glanced at each other. _Gods damn. Well, there goes any chance of complete secrecy, no thanks to how quickly I defended her. _

* * *

Maevyn and Brynjolf walked up to Mercer Frey, who was in his usual spot on his desk, looking through his ledger.

"You wanted to see us, Mercer?" Brynjolf said as the two stopped in front of the Breton.

"Ah yes, glad you two didn't take too long." He began after closing the large book that was bloated with innumerous scraps of paper and scratched pages. "I haven't found any information on Gajul-Lei or the mysterious mark yet, but I do have something that should keep you on your toes in the meantime. Tolsten Cruel-Sea has caught our attention, and I want you two to go to Windhelm and see what he wants. I advise you start out as soon as morning comes."

"Eastmarch?" Maevyn asked as Mercer crossed his arms and glared at the interruption, "I've never been there before. My father once told me it was bestially cold up there, though,"

"Yes, it is. So I advise both of you to pack warmer clothes other than your armor. Now, I expect this job to be executed flawlessly. Cruel-Sea is paying a big chunk of gold for this job, and there better be no mess-ups, understood?" As he finished, he crossed his arms again and glared at Maevyn, who seemed oblivious to the Bretons pointed look.

"Ah Mercer? I believe Maevyn has more than proven her worth as a thief," Brynjolf said nonchalantly as the guildmaster turned his menacing gaze on him.

"Even so, there's always room for error, and right now, I'm taking my bets on the newcomer," he sneered in his nasal tones that always seemed intimidating and angry.

Brynjolf then turned to Maevyn, who had her head parallel to the floor as she took the brunt of Mercer's insults and accusations. He noted she looked angry, yet also thoughtful as her ears received the newfound opinions of her superior.

"All right. We'll leave tomorrow morning, and you can count on us, Mercer." Brynjolf sighed as Maevyn began to amble across the cistern to the training room. "You know, you don't have to be so hard on the lass," he commented as they were left alone.

"I know I don't, but it's the only way to get things done. You have to be serious and heartless to be a thief; that's why I'm in charge around here," Mercer said coldly, glaring across the room at the top-notch thief who was pulling out a set of daggers as she exited.

* * *

Within the training room, Brynjolf found Maevyn hacking relentlessly at a dummy with two elven daggers.

"I didn't know you had a set of daggers like that," he commented as he watched the dagger in her left hand slice at the straw-filled dummy and send smoke to the top of the room, while the other one sent a cold wave of air swooshing over him as she swept with her right hand.

"I made them myself," she mumbled as she continued to whirl around intricately.

"Maevyn…" Brynjolf began as she paused and looked at him, her eyes filled with doubt and dismay. "I know Mercer gives you a hard time, but it's with good intentions. He acts indifferent because he believes it makes you a better thief. He says that since he gives no praise, it will drive you to do better at what you do,"

She sighed shakily before she began, "I can understand that, but it seems he hates me. He doesn't just ignore my skill, he scorns it. He always thinks I'll ruin the job, or something like that. It upsets me, because I'm truly trying my hardest to be the best."

Brynjolf looked at his dusty shoes, unsure of what else to say, "I know lass, I know."

"It's not fair." As she said this, Maevyn whirled around and threw a dagger at one of the dummies, lodging it squarely in the center of the target. The cloth and straw then proceeded to catch fire as the enchanted weapon poured its power into the object.

She sighed and shook her head, "That's Eldur. And this is Ledas," she said softly as she held up the dagger in her right hand that gave off waves of cold air. "Fire and frost enchantments,"

Brynjolf was thoroughly impressed with bother her enchanting skill and her ability to hit the dead-center of the target with her dagger. _Is there anything she isn't good at?_ He could still tell she was upset, whether it was because of Mercer or Dirge, he didn't know, but he certainly felt forlorn at his inability to make her feel better.

He sat down on a low wall and pulled her down next to him, wrapping his arms around her as she leaned her head against his shoulder, "It'll be okay lass."

She heaved another sigh, "I know,"

The two sat like that for a period of time, both staring as the dummy collapsed on the ground in a shower of sparks, smoldering on the stone floor. "You know," Brynjolf began as Maevyn looked up at him, "we have a whole afternoon to ourselves. What would you like to do?"

She smiled warmly and retrieved Eldur from the flaky ashes, "I think a walk through The Rift would be nice. The weather is gorgeous out, and I haven't seen much of the area yet,"

"That's an excellent idea, lass,"

* * *

The sun was dipping behind the fiery birch trees as the two thieves were lazily ambling through the streets of Riften. The warmth rolling off of Balimund's forge was enticing to Maevyn and Brynjolf as they passed it, driving away the Heartfire chill that was settling over the city in the twilight.

Brynjolf looked up at the darkening sky, noting the number of celestial objects that were beginning to appear, "I think I ought to get back to the guild, Maevyn,"

The look that passed Maevyn's face was so ridiculously sweet, it made his legs go wobbly, _and this must be that puppy dog face I've been warned of. _She stepped closer to Brynjolf and stood on her toes to reach his ear, "Don't go Brynjolf. Stay with me tonight. Please?" she whispered as she snaked a hand into his.

She pulled away and gazed at him with her cat eyes again, squeezing his palm in her own as she pleaded. And of course, he could never possibly resist what she was asking. _How unfair of women it is to have the ability to widen their eyes and say 'please' to get what they want. _

"Of course," he said back, his deep voice rumbling as he led her away towards Honeyside. He chuckled as she frantically searched inside her satchel and shoved the key in the lock eagerly, pulling him inside when she succeeded.

* * *

**AuthorsNote: Well, here is a long filler chapter from Brynjolf's point of view! I hope it isn't too boring. **

**Dear B (guest), I am sorry to say that this is my goody two-shoes story and there won't be much drama in this one. Buut, if you'd like that kind of stuff, I can direct you to my other Skyrim story (Dark Brotherhood oriented), A Knife in the Heart, where drama will be plentiful. I apologize for not meeting your wishes within this story, but love aspects are pretty firm right now. **

**Anyway, some trivial facts: 'Ledas' means 'ice' in Lithuanian, and 'Eldur' means 'fire' in Icelandic. **

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Next installment will bring a meeting with a slippery Argonian in Solitude:) Comments and suggestions are always veryvery welcomed here. Have a pleasant day!**


	14. Three Months Later

_3 months later…_

Sheets of rain sleeted against the small windows of Honeyside in the gloomy night, and jagged streaks of lightning severed the sky as rumbling intervals of thunder shook the rickety docks. Maevyn jolted awake as the walls of the small cottage shivered in the raging storm and sat up to look out the window. Only rivers of inky rain could be seen as they streaked down the pane in the dark. She shuddered and lay back down on her pillow, pulling the thick quilt around her as she tried to block out the sounds of the storm.

A warm arm wrapped around her waist, and Brynjolf mumbled incomprehensively as he tossed in his sleep. She turned and buried her face in his chest as more thunder shook the house. She hated thunderstorms; they were always unpredictable, dangerous, something you couldn't control. Maevyn could never sleep when there was a storm, but fortunately, Brynjolf solved the problem for her.

The past three months had been smooth and uneventful, besides the completion of sponsors her and Brynjolf had gathered for the guild, and the fact that their relationship was no longer in the shadows. A large streak of lightning shattered the sky and illuminated the inside of the cottage, allowing Maevyn to briefly glimpse the peaceful face of her bed partner. The orange scruff on his jaw grazed her forehead as he slightly shifted with the rumbling of the thunder, both causing her to shiver.

Sighing at her inability to sleep, Maevyn wormed her way out from under his warm arms and crept over to the wardrobe, where she slipped into a thin robe. The chilled wooden planks were icy against her bare feet in the Evening Star winter, and she rushed across the floor to pull on her fur-lined boots. Creeping down the ladder into the cellar, Maevyn smiled as the heady scent of dried herbs and bottled mixtures entered her nose. After slightly fumbling around for a candle, she smiled larger at the sight of her alchemy table, which had always brought solace to her in any situation. The roaring thunder was considerably less noticeable down there, she gladly noted, and began pulling various powders and flasks off of the numerous shelves that lined the basement.

The door on the opposite wall slightly creaked open, and Iona stepped out, also clothed in a robe. "Maevyn," she said, her voice was brisk, as if she had been awake the entire night.

Maevyn turned and smiled at her housecarl. Their relationship had strengthened in the past weeks, though the nord warrior still seemed like an ice block, if now only a partially defrosted ice block now. "Did I wake you, Iona?" she asked as she lit the miniature woodstove on the table, worried that she had disturbed the housecarl's slumber.

Iona's eyes slightly narrowed, "No. Why are you awake?" she asked as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, "It's 2:00 in the morning, you know,"

Maevyn laughed sheepishly, embarrassed to reveal the truth, "I don't care for storms too much…" she trailed off as she began measuring void salts into an indentation on the alchemy table.

Iona nodded and sat down in the chair next to one of the shelves, watching Maevyn as she created various tinctures. After awhile, Iona spoke, "Why do you enjoy that so much?" she asked, gesturing to the pile of chopped mountain flowers Maevyn was pouring into the table and the flasks of liquid that were simmering over the heat.

Maevyn stopped and looked at the nord, contemplating of how she should answer, "…I'm not really sure why. I suppose it might be how precise everything has to be, or just the fact that I'm creating something entirely new out of a combination of unlikely ingredients." She looked down at the bench and ran her finger along the small divots that were carved into the table, thinking of other reasons. "It relaxes me. And reminds me of home, when my mother taught me how to do it."

The blond eyebrows of the nord knit together as she stared intently at the table. She pointed to the carved pattern on the face of the lab, "why must that be there, in that particular shape?"

Maevyn stared at the tabletop, trying to recall the information she had gathered from novice books or from what her mother had told her, but nothing came to mind, "You know," she said, "I'm not sure. But I use the smaller ones on the outside for organizing my separate ingredients, while the larger one in the middle is where I combine everything. I'm not sure if they're technically used for that though…" she admitted with a slight frown. "I'll have to look into that…"

* * *

As the early morning wore on, Iona retired back to her room after her curiosity of alchemy was sated, and Maevyn was left alone with her thoughts, which frequently drifted between Brynjolf and what had happened in her new life so far…

The three months that had passed had brought a lot of changes to Maevyn's life. First was the notoriety her and Brynjolf had brought back to the guild; many, if not all of the empty stalls in the Flagon were taken up by alchemists, blacksmiths, fletchers, and enchanters. The vault was brimming with coin they had brought in, Brynjolf had proudly told her. Mercer was slightly nicer to her, now that she had a big part in fixing the guild, yet he still treated her like a child. The relationship she had with Brynjolf was no longer a secret, but they still didn't go around advertising it. It was only within the confines of Honeyside that they cherished intimate moments together. As for the nights, Brynjolf often stayed in the cottage, but still periodically slept in the Cistern when Mercer was absorbed with work. The issue of retrieving the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller frequently pestered Maevyn, but she knew she wasn't ready to face that side of her life yet. The entire Dragonborn business didn't appeal to Maevyn at all; she preferred to stalk the shadows with Brynjolf for the time being. Overall though, she was content with her life at the moment, and couldn't ask for anything better.

A pearly light began to filter through the ladder door, signaling that morning was approaching. A soft series of thuds emanated through the above floorboards, which told Maevyn that Brynjolf was now awake, most likely searching for breakfast. Smiling to herself, she finished corking the small red bottle in her hands, and climbed up the ladder to greet him.

He was at the table with a bowl of fruit in front of him, his back to her as he munched on an apple. A sly smile spread across her face as she silently crept through the cellar door and across the room. Sneaking up behind his chair, Maevyn held out her palm and let a small ripple of electricity conjure in her hand, which she placed on Brynjolf's spine lightly. She laughed in delight as he yelped, and watched him quiver in unison with the blue strand of electricity that shimmied through his body. He spun around as he heard the giggle, his eyes wide and wild after he received the shock. He too smiled after he realized he was in no danger and laughed as he pulled Maevyn into his lap.

Joining his laughter, Maevyn leaned in to kiss him, but was only met with surprise when Brynjolf pointedly jabbed the various pressure points throughout her body, making her flinch and laugh as she tried to escape.

With flight as her only available defense, Maevyn escaped from Brynjolf's embrace and ran to the other side of the room, hoping to retreat from his playful wrath. A conniving grin sitting upon his lips, he followed her, pushing her into a corner where he then scooped her up from underneath and planted a series of rough and endearing kisses across her lips and neck. Laughing between breaths, Maevyn eagerly returned the gestures, clinging to his neck as he walked back to the kitchen table.

"Well, it seems the wolf has caught the fleeting swan," Brynjolf mumbled roughly as his lips brushed against Maevyn's.

She laughed and planted one last kiss before leaving his lap to retrieve her own breakfast, which consisted of a small bowl of blueberries and toast. She sat across from him, smiling largely before beginning her breakfast. Moments of silence passed before she spoke,

"Is there anything special you have in mind? Any jobs or contracts you need?" she asked him in between bites of fruit.

Brynjolf rested is elbow on his knee as he thought, "I don't think so, lass. Although Delvin did mention something about an heirloom that needs to be stolen…"

Maevyn smiled and gathered up her empty dishes, as well as his, "Alright, we know what to do today,"

* * *

As the two entered the Cistern through the cemetery, Mercer waved them over to his desk with a frantic flick of his wrist and a scowl. As they walked over, they could see numerous scraps of paper were scattered across the table in a disheveled pile.

"It's been a long time you two, but I finally know who Gajul-Lei is," Mercer said with a smug grin as they stepped up to the desk.

Maevyn's eyes lit up at the prospect of continuing her and Brynjolf's important task for the guild. It seemed like forever since Honningbrew.

Brynjolf was just excited as Maevyn, "Excellent!" he said enthusiastically, "what's the plan, Mercer?" he asked as he leaned against the desk.

The lopsided grin was replaced by Mercer's usual sour frown as he began, "Gajul-Lei is actually Gulum-Ei, you remember him, don't you?" he asked as he addressed Brynjolf, "He's still in Solitude with the East Empire Company, that slimy bastard…"

The name was alien to Maevyn, and she was curious as to how this man had any previous involvement with the guild and why he was interfering now, "Who is Gulum-Ei?" she asked as she slightly cocked her head.

Mercer turned and scowled at her, "Brynjolf can explain it to you," he then turned to her partner again, "Gulum-Ei should have enough information to reveal who this symbol belongs to," he said as he pointed to the marking from both Goldenglow and Honningbrew that was sketched on a fragment of parchment and tacked to the wall.

Don't harm him," Mercer growled, "he may still prove to be invaluable to us, is that understood?"

Maevyn nodded her head as Brynjolf voiced a firm "yes."

"Good. I expect you two to be in Solitude by tomorrow morning," he finished with a smug grin before turning on his heel and exiting the cistern.

Maevyn turned to Brynjolf, waiting for information on the man, but was instead led to a table in a shrouded corner. There, the two sat with a bottle of mead to share.

"Gulum-Ei is an Argonian who works for the East Empire Company," Brynjolf said after he drank from his bottle, "He used to be a part of the guild, smuggling in valuable items from shipment, where he would get part of the profit."

Maevyn nodded and let him continue, "Over the course of a few months, the lizard gradually stopped sending items in, which put a fairly good dent in our income. We never confronted him over it, but now is the time."

"I see," Meavyn said, "what if he doesn't know who the symbol belongs to? What if her or she gave Gulum-Ei a fake name?"

The nord stared into the neck of his bottle as he spoke, "Gulum-Ei will know. That argonian has his scaly fingers in everyone's pies."

Maevyn slowly bobbed her head as she thought of the preparations that needed to be made, "Very well," she said, "I suppose we should start to pack now. I'll go tell Iona we're leaving,"

"Alright lass. Let's meet down here before lunch, okay?"

* * *

**AuthorsNote: I'm baaaaacckkkkk! Hey guys! How's everything doing? Thought I was dead, didn't you? Well I'm not! **

**First of all, I really need to apologize for not updating in like, months. Sorry... But I have (slightly) good reasons!**

**1.) I went on like, three vacations and didn't have a lot of time**

**2.) I didn't feel very motivated to write... hehe...**

**3.) My computer went for bust for awhile**

**I think a special apology is in store for Barenziah the Luminous...**

**Dear Barenziah the Luminous, I know you specifically asked me to not stop and leave you hanging there. But I did. For a while. I really do apologize for that. I hope you haven't forgotten about this story! **

**I hope none of you have forgotten about this story! **

**There are somethings I need to clean up, and I'll start doing that little by little. First, I'll start off with the ages of my characters...**

**Maevyn: 26 years old, joined at age 26**

**Brynjolf: 36 years old, joined at 14**

**Vex: 32, joined at 20**

**Delvin: 52, joined at 29**

**Mercer: 56, joined at 16**

**Alright, I know this was a long AN, but I have sooo much on my mind right now! Sorry this chapter is a bit on the short side, and it's a filler, unfortunately. I hope you guys aren't too mad at me for my break.**

**Enjoy! Comments and suggestions are welcomed here!**

**PS: I have A LOT of catching up to do on stories to read. Can't wait to read them:)**


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